


The A.N.G.A.L. Anomaly

by HigherMagic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha Rick, Alpha Shane, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Android Rick, Bottom Daryl Dixon, Concerned Lori, Daryl Has Issues, Dirty Talk, F/M, Frottage, Gun Violence, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Omega Daryl, Omega Daryl Dixon, Past Character Death, Protective Shane, Recluse Daryl, Rickyl Writers' Group, School Shootings, Self-Lubrication, Sharing a Bed, Smoking, Suicide Attempt, Technology, Thighs, Top Rick Grimes, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 105,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6752587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/pseuds/HigherMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago, Daryl's mate died and left behind a young son and a concerned best friend who soon became his only family. Daryl has been a recluse since, barely leaving the house and losing himself to the world of machines and wires and binary codes. It's not healthy, he knows it isn't, but he can't help himself. Now there's a new system on the market - one specifically designed for Omegas like him, to simulate an Alpha's presence and help them feel safer while they're alone. But Daryl's never been good at just leaving a code be, and soon it seems like not only is the system simulating an Alpha presence, but a very specific one at that. One that Daryl hasn't felt for five long, long years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEY WHO WANTED SAD ANDROIDS? NO ONE? Well it's here anyway. Congratulations.
> 
> No idea how long this will be or when the next part will be up but I'm aiming for a Long Weekend remake where I post every couple of days. We'll see how it goes. 
> 
> I haven't rated it for now but eventually it will explicit because reasons. Enjoy!

Daryl folded his arms over his chest, braced against the door frame leading to his apartment as he vigilantly watched the many Alphas and Betas bustling their way around his home. His chest felt tense and tight with anxiety as he watched them, wires falling out of the walls, hooking up to sensors – all things he could have done within the safety of his undisturbed home.

His fingers flexed, and he turned away at the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs leading to his apartment. Shane’s buzzed-short mane of hair came into view first, followed by the rest of the Alpha’s broad, towering frame, and Daryl found himself relaxing just a little.

Shane came to stand next to him and Daryl nodded his head pointedly to the team of technicians swarming around his home like a very unorganized infestation of insects. Shane, to his credit, managed to look sheepish.

“It’s faster this way,” he said, rubbing the back of his head, and Daryl huffed a sigh.

“At least Carl’s not home,” he replied, not quite forgiving, but an acknowledgement that Shane hummed to. Daryl hadn’t had any foreign Alpha in his home other than family in quite some time – he was fiercely protective of his home, and of Carl, to the point that Shane was the only one of his neighbors to actually know Daryl had a son.

“They’ll be gone before school’s out,” Shane said after another moment, heaving a sigh and bracing his shoulder against the wall next to the door frame. “And they should be done by tomorrow.” Daryl smiled, nodding, unable to keep his eyes off of the mass of men and women for long. He didn’t like taking his eyes off of them for a single second.

He sighed. “You know I can’t afford something like this.”

Shane nodded. “Well, I can’t afford for you not to have it,” he said, his tone only thinly hiding his judgment. He didn’t approve of Daryl essentially going into hiding – frankly, the Omega didn’t either. He was a pack animal, meant to be around others, and instead had somewhat lost himself into closed circuits and security systems and the inner workings of computers. Shane, however, had decided to take his career in the direction of willingly putting himself near dangerous and armed criminals. So really, he didn’t have a leg to stand on in that respect – Daryl was good at his job, sure, but he was dangerously close to becoming a shut in and they both knew that wasn’t healthy.

They watched the workers for two more hours before Daryl had had enough and politely kicked them the Hell out. He had to go pick up Carl from school and didn’t want any of these people around his house when he came back – Shane folded himself into the front seat of the Daryl's truck and Daryl started the rumbling engine and pulled into the light mid-afternoon traffic.

“So how much is this gonna set me back?” Daryl asked after a few minutes, three red lights away from Carl’s school.

Shane shrugged one shoulder. “A home cooked meal once a month?” the Alpha joked, his smile falling flat at Daryl’s unimpressed side-eyed look.

“Shane.”

The Alpha sighed. “I don’t wanna talk about money. I just want you to feel safe, Daryl – and I want you to be able to get out in the world again without worrying so much. I worry about you. Lori -.”

“I call you and Lori once a week, same as always,” Daryl replied tersely, turning the wheel a little more harshly than necessary when the light beeped to green, making the truck groan in protest. “Don’t use that as an excuse.” He sighed. “You’re just protecting your pack. I get it.”

Shane heaved a big breath through his nose. Technically, as the only living Alpha relative Daryl had (even if it was only in the sense of pure park mentality), he was responsible for Daryl until Daryl officially mated or until Carl came of age and presented Alpha. Daryl knew this. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

Still, technology he trusted and could tweak to his own needs. If this new ANGAL security system would make Shane unclench even a little bit, and if it was apparently coming across as gratis, Daryl wasn’t going to look a gift Alpha-simulator in the mouth.

They pulled up to Carl’s school just as the bell rang – one long, pealing call of freedom to all the children inside. They didn’t all swarm out at once, but came in trickles, splitting into groups or heading straight to the myriad of SUV’s, trailers, pickup trucks and little Toyotas. Daryl smiled when he saw Carl’s dark shock of hair amid the other children, his son talking animatedly to his friends as they waited for the others’ parents to show up. Carl liked to stay behind and make sure everyone got to their parents safely; since he always knew Daryl would be there and would wait. Daryl had raised him well, he liked to think, and his little Alpha boy was a good leader and protector to the smaller or younger children.

Once his little group had dispersed, Carl jogged over to the truck and clambered into the backseat. “Hey, Uncle Shane!” he said, surging forward to hug around Shane’s neck tightly over the truck's bench seat.

Shane grinned, patting his hand over Carl’s fists. “Hey, little man. How was school?”

“Good!” Carl sat back, dutifully doing his seatbelt since he knew Daryl wouldn’t start driving until he did so. “Today in Science we started learning about computers and electricity.”

Daryl grinned, his chest tight with pride hearing his son talk animatedly about batteries and electrical currents and the different wires inside of a plug. Even though he knew the kind of things he did was a far cry from a ten-year-old’s science classes it made him happy to think that his son might share some of his interests. Sometimes, Carl reminded Daryl far too much of his father.

Once they returned home, Shane got out of the car and crouched down for a real hug from his nephew. Carl grinned, throwing himself into Shane’s arms and letting the big Alpha swing him around before setting him back down. Daryl smiled, watching the scene from where he was leaning against the truck’s hood, keys swinging loosely from his fingers.

“You’re getting real big now, buddy,” Shane said, ruffling the young Alpha’s thick hair. “S’good to know Daryl's got a big strong Alpha to look after him.”

Carl frowned. “You’re not stayin’?” he asked, looking back to Daryl for confirmation.

Daryl shrugged one shoulder. “I think Shane’s got some cases to work on.” The sentence hung in the air – it was an open invitation for Shane to accept, to come inside and share dinner with them, but not an obligation.

Shane shook his head, smiling. He looked a lot more relieved now than when he ascended Daryl’s stairs before. “Nah, I think I’ll leave you guys alone. I’ll be back tomorrow when the workers come, make sure the final touches work out.”

Daryl smiled, circling the truck and giving a nod of acknowledgment and thanks to Shane before Carl slid his hand into Daryl’s.

“What workers?” the boy asked as Daryl led him out of the parking garage and into the hallway leading to the staircase that wound up in front of Daryl’s apartment – Daryl had a specially sectioned off suite on one of the top floors, inaccessible to most of the other tenants. He felt safer up there, with less people pressing in on him from all sides.

“Remember that thing we saw on TV, about the cool new security system?” Daryl asked, rhetorically though Carl nodded in answer anyway, letting go of Daryl’s hand just long enough for the Omega to figure out his mess of keys and slide one into his door’s lock. “Well, Uncle Shane bought one for us. They’ve been installin' it and they’ll be finished up tomorrow, so when you’re done with school can mess around with it.”

Carl’s blue eyes lit up as he bounded into the room, gazing with wonder at the disconnected wires sitting next to their television and the open console now attached to the side of the door. “How’s it gonna work?” he asked, gently tracing the thin metal edge of the open console, knowing from Daryl that electricity could be dangerous and he shouldn’t touch anything that looked like it could shock him.

Daryl threw his keys down onto the living room table, toeing off his boots and shrugging his jacket off of his shoulders and onto the arm of the couch. “Well, basically, we’re gonna get this interface – like a screen – to be able to program things 'round the house. Like we can automatically lock the doors at night or we can put people into the system to always let in, or never let in, and the system will keep an eye out for us.”

Carl frowned. “What about if the power shuts off?”

Daryl winked. “Closed circuit and separate back up power, buddy. You think I wouldn’t'a thought of that?”

Carl grinned. “Nah, dad. You’re too smart for that.”

“Damn straight.” Daryl ran forward and scooped up his son, grinning at Carl’s excited shriek as he hauled him up onto his shoulders. “And once I have the codes I’ll be able to do all kinds of cool tweaks and stuff to make it really _ours_ , you know? It’s gonna be _sweet_.”

Carl huffed, resting his chin on the top of Daryl’s head. “Sounds cool, dad,” he said, letting himself settle, heavy and trusting, over Daryl’s shoulders. “What’s for food?”

“What'd'ya want?”

“Grilled cheese,” the young Alpha replied, letting Daryl drop him down onto the couch with another tired huff. Daryl gave him a small salute and handed him the television remote, then retreated to the kitchen to start up dinner. On the way he double checked the door and the entrance hall to make sure he couldn’t scent anything too strange around the entrance, and made sure both the deadbolt and the chain on the door were closed. Soon the sound of cartoons filled his apartment and Carl’s laughter could be heard even over the hiss of melted cheese and frying bread, and Daryl finally felt himself begin to relax.

 

 

 

 

Shane came back, true to his word, in time for the workers to arrive and drove Carl to school while Daryl stayed behind, fixing everything so that there was nothing that could be disturbed by wandering hands or dumb, ignorant people who didn’t understand his home’s system. The final installations only took a few more hours and Daryl was relieved when the last of the foreign Alphas and Betas filed out without another word by one in the afternoon.

They didn’t speak directly with Daryl, addressing Shane instead and giving him the numbers of technicians, support staff and ‘Anything else you’ll need, Sir’. Daryl didn’t mind, really – he got nervous around new people and the less direct interaction he had, the better he felt. He trusted Shane to handle the money and the whole face-to-face people thing. His head, his heart, was in machines. Machines could be fixed if they broke – machines could handle replacement parts no problem. Machines didn’t wither away and die unless there was no one there to take care of them.

He took the tablet from Shane’s hands when it was offered, flicking the side switch down to power it on. He grinned when he saw the faint, light blue loading screen in the picture of a pair of wings, one folded around the ANGAL crest and the other spread out wide.

“I’m gonna have a lot of fun with this,” he said, setting the tablet down while it loaded and heading to the fridge for a beer. He opened one for Shane before taking one for himself, smiling when the Alpha settled himself on a bar stool and took a long swallow.

Shane answered his smile. “I’m glad you were so open to this, Daryl.”

Daryl snorted. “You kidding me? This shit’s straight outta _Night Rider_ , Shane, or _I Robot_.”

Shane blinked at him, before he laughed into the neck of his bottle. “Jeez, sometimes I forget how much of a nerd you are.”

Daryl flipped him off, his attention immediately caught by the chipper ‘Ping’ sound that signaled the system’s readiness. He quickly went over to pick up the tablet again, bringing it back as he keyed in the information he wished to be identified by and set the default language and location settings.

“I figured you’d want some time to play around,” Shane said after a moment. “They have different voice settings you can choose, and you’ll wanna put Carl in there too, of course. But yeah, have fun with it. I’m sure you’ll figure out some awesome new flashy things to add.”

Daryl grinned, winking. “Totally gonna install a rocket launcher.”

“Daryl.” Shane’s eyes widened comically. “No. Not after last time.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “God, Shane, I was _kidding_.”

“Your mouth says kidding, but your eyes say ‘supervillian’,” Shane teased, grinning, secretly pleased that already Daryl seemed more relaxed, losing himself in the bright, promising glow of an Alpha simulator. It was commonplace now for unmated or lone Omegas to have the ANGAL system; a high-tech security interface that could be customized for their protection and safety. Shane knew of far too many Omegas, even those who had come into his own care as his residents, that had suffered without it. Maybe this way Daryl could relax a little more, come of the shell he’d been building for the past five years since Carl’s father’s death.

He finished his beer, setting it down by the recycling bucket, and waited for Daryl to pull himself away before clapping a hand tightly on Daryl's shoulder. He didn’t miss how Daryl turned his face towards the touch, like he desperately wanted to be embraced fully, but he fought it. Shane remembered how Daryl used to be, before – how he'd openly expressed his affection by burying his face in Shane’s neck and breathing deeply when they hugged, even if it was for only a short time. They had been friends for so long, brought even closer once Daryl's mate had died. Shane allowed his touch to linger, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the seam of Daryl's shirt just briefly. “I’ll be back in time to go pick up Carl, okay?” he asked, squeezing just a little tighter before letting go.

Daryl nodded, a half-smile coming to his face, and he locked the deadbolt and chain behind Shane before returning to the tablet. The words “Hello, Daryl” glowed faintly on the screen and Daryl smiled when he saw them.

“Alright, you beautiful bastard,” he said, bringing the tablet across to his computer and booting it up. “Let’s see what makes you tick.”

 

 

 

 

Daryl was surrounded by white codes of the AI's matrix, the bright blue pulling him into a world of binary patterns and complex algorithms. He was snapped out of his immersion by a light knock on the door and frowned, checking the time and finding that already several hours had passed since he first sat down with the interface.

He stood, groaning as his back cracked at the motion, and walked over to the door. A quick look through the peephole confirmed it was Shane returning with Carl and Daryl undid the bolt and chain to open the door and allow the two Alphas to step through.

"Must'a lost track of time," he muttered sheepishly, nodding in thanks to Shane as Carl handed off his book bag and toed off his shoes before running towards his room to change into more comfortable clothes for lounging around the house. Carl had, unfortunately, inherited his father's penchant for wearing as ratty and worn clothing as possible when not around guests. It hurt Daryl's heart to look at him sometimes, knowing he was seeing his mate as he must have been when he was young, when Shane had known him, the two Alphas in sweats and wrestling together on the living room floor of one of their homes, or curled up with enough junk food to keep them awake for days watching bad horror movies.

"Hey," Shane said, catching Daryl's attention as he set the bag down on the kitchen counter. "Lori's makin' her casserole tonight – the one Carl likes so much. Figured you two might like to join us."

Daryl hesitated, worrying his lower lip. He wanted to go back to the machines, where things were straightforward and easy to solve. If there was a problem in the coding he could fix it. He didn't have to deal with emotions and attachments and conversation.

But he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd interacted in person with someone other than Shane and Carl, and so he heaved a sigh and nodded. "What time?"

"Seven," Shane replied with his thousand-watt smile. "See you then."

 

 

 

 

Daryl liked Lori – he always had, even though when he first met her she'd been dating the man who would soon become Daryl's whole world, the father of his child, and the one who had left a big gaping hole in him when he'd died.

She was beautiful, and wore her beauty with humility and grace. She was a fiery woman that even an Alpha would back down from at times and Shane adored her, and Carl had always looked to her like a third parent whenever Shane and Daryl's mate were on duty and Daryl was too immersed in his work to come out and interact with his child. When – when the worst had happened, Daryl hadn't been able to take care of himself, let alone Carl, and Lori and Shane had taken care of him until the Omega had clawed himself back to something resembling a human being. He would be forever in their debt for that.

"Aunt Lori!" Carl yelled, throwing his arms around her waist and squeezing her tightly as she huffed and patted his head.

"Easy, slugger," Shane warned playfully, carefully loosening Carl's arms and giving Lori's swollen stomach a reassuring pat. "That's your cousin in there. Gotta treat her gently."

"I'm sorry," Carl said with all the seriousness of a man declaring war, and settled instead for giving Lori a much gentler side-hug, his head tucked under her arm as she smiled and hugged him back.

"Glad you could make it," she greeted gently, reaching out with her free arm and pulling Daryl into a quick hug, her lips making contact with his cheek just briefly before she let him go. Daryl smiled at her, knowing it was probably a shadow compared to Shane's winning grin, but it was the most he could manage these days. Even five years later he ached whenever he smiled, because he could remember when he used to laugh freely and those memories were always so bittersweet he found himself unable to speak for fear of cracking apart.

"Couldn't pass up free food," he replied, trying to lighten his mood and the atmosphere at once, and felt somewhat successful when Lori laughed and steered Carl towards the kitchen. Shane offered Daryl a beer which he willingly took, finishing half of it quickly.

Shane was a police officer – still, even after the accident – and his apartment was central to the whole complex. It was an unofficial law that every building held one enforcement officer or an Alpha similarly trained, to keep the peace and make sure everyone was safe and protected. Shane was the one for this building, and Daryl appreciated that, but it meant his apartment was centered within the place and Daryl felt the weight of all the floors and people above him pressing him down. He was glad he lived on the top floor – he felt like he was suffocating whenever he came down here.

"…How's life?" he asked, shifting his weight awkwardly when Shane looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Good," Shane replied evenly, taking another swig of his beer that Daryl matched. "Big drug bust last month. Streets are quiet. It's…good."

"Good," Daryl echoed, looking down at the floor. He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't feel like I'm really here right now."

"It's okay," Shane said quietly. Daryl could see the fingers of his free hand twitching, itching to reach out and comfort Daryl with touch like he would any other pack Omega, but that had never been Daryl's way. The touches he allowed to himself were few and far between. "Listen, I wanna warn you now – Lori's gonna try and get you to go with her again this week. Just wanted to give ya a heads up so you have time to think of your excuse."

Daryl closed his eyes, finishing his beer with a sharp gasp. Another reason he usually reserved his interaction to weekly phone calls – those were easy, and he could hang up at any time. Coming to Shane and Lori's apartment just _hurt_ , so much. And not just because they were happily mated with a baby on the way, and not just because they had known Daryl's mate for so long and loved him just as much and _ached_ for him just as much.

There were pictures of him, here. Daryl had stopped keeping his eyes anywhere but the floor and the thresholds of doors and their faces for years since it happened. There were pictures of him – young, graduating the academy with his arm around Shane's shoulders and his grin wide on his face. There was a photograph of him holding Carl for the first time, wide-eyed and wondering. There was a picture that someone had taken when Shane, Lori, Daryl and he were out to dinner, the four of them happy and smiling and the best of friends. Daryl knew where each picture lurked, waiting to choke him with emotion if he dared to break his gaze away from the safe zones.

It wasn't healthy. Omegas were pack animals just as much as Alphas were and to close himself off like he had was dangerous and damaging. Lori wanted him to come with her to a support group – a place for people like him, who had lost their mates. But Daryl didn't want to talk about him. He didn't want to think about him. He didn't want to _miss_ him.

Shane wordlessly handed him another beer and Daryl's hand shook as he took it.

"…Maybe I'll go," he said, lifting his eyes to catch Shane's surprised blink. "Give it a shot." He lifted one shoulder in a sheepish shrug. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Then, slowly, Shane grinned at him. "Yeah, man," he replied, clinking their beers together. "That's the spirit."

 

 

 

 

When Daryl returned from Shane and Lori's, a sleepy Carl slung across his chest, he was tired to the bone. Being around them for so long exhausted him in a way he used to equate with a long week at work or a shitty time in traffic. It was stressful, but it was necessary – and it wasn't their fault, and they were family.

He let Carl flop down on his bed and pulled his shoes and socks off before rolling the boy in his blankets, burrito-style, and closing his bedroom door. Carl was a sound sleeper, just like his father most nights, thank God, so Daryl didn't worry about dragging his fingers across the interface left on their kitchen counter, smiling when the screen flickered to life with a chirp.

 _Hello, Daryl_ , it said, in its cheery, bright white lettering amidst the blue. It was a gorgeous blue, icy and clear and Daryl imagined it looked just like…

He sighed, tilting the screen back and forth for a moment, before he swiped his fingers across it again to enter the actual system. The ANGAL system was meant to run in the background most of the time, no more complicated than a standard household alarm, but Daryl was good at tweaking things until they did exactly what he wanted – that was why, even though he hardly left the house, he had enough income coming in to keep him and his son fed. There was a huge market for the kinds of tweaks and fixes he did remotely for people and as luck would have it, the magical internet allowed him to do it all without having to actually _talk_ to anyone.

He played around a little just for kicks, double checking that the system had Shane and Carl and Lori set to always be allowed in, that it knew their names. After a second he shoved himself to his feet and brought the screen to his bedroom, setting it down on the bed before he made his way to the closet.

He hadn't opened this thing in…months. Since Shane had come by needing another pair of boots for work and he had been the same size, so Daryl had let him take them. Good riddance, he'd said – they stank and Daryl couldn't bring himself to clean them on the best of days, let alone now.

It had been months, but he knew what he would find. Uniforms, notebooks, that stash of candy that he always thought Daryl didn't know about. But there were other things in there, too. Like, buried in the very back, a box of cassette tapes from when he would stay up late, recording notes on his cases for later referral. He had been a stickler for things like that.

Hours and hours of tapes with his voice on them. The ANGAL system was meant to replicate an Alpha and, damn it, if Daryl couldn't have _his_ Alpha, he could at least hear him.

It was a monumentally stupid idea and Daryl knew that from the beginning but fuck it, it was his life and his system and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. It was this or a rocket launcher, he told himself with a nod, as he shoved open the closet doors and started to rummage around inside.

Fuck, it still _smelled_ like him in here. Which was impossible. It had been five fucking years, but Daryl felt like he was breathing in a ghost as he knelt down and dragged the old shoebox out. It was heavy, and clattered in that plastic way from the cassettes and recorders clicking together.

He pulled the box up onto his knees and paused, his hands flat on the lid. Inside here was his mate's voice, his thoughts. It was the way he used to laugh and the way his words would slur when he was exhausted. Daryl's voice might be on here too, or Carl's, or Shane's. Back when they were happy. Back when they were whole.

With a shuddering breath, he pushed the box to one side and closed the closet. He stood up and carried the screen back to the kitchen, placed it on its little charging port, and turned off the lights.

It was progress.

 

 

 

 

The weekend passed by in a blur and then suddenly it was Wednesday night and Daryl remembered that he had promised Lori he'd go with her to her group meeting. Shane agreed to take Carl out to the movies – "Nothing he shouldn't be watching, Shane, I'm warning you." "What, don't you trust me?" "'Bout as far as I can throw you, asshole." – so it was just the two of them going. Lori walked up to Daryl's apartment so they could both go down together.

"Wait, before you go." Daryl grabbed the screen and hit 'Record'. "Say something."

"Um…okay. You're a giant nerd," she replied with a grin, and Daryl scoffed and took his finger off the screen before setting it down and grabbing his coat and keys. "What was that for?" she asked as he shut and locked the door behind them.

"Voice recognition," Daryl said. "I'm gonna wanna record more of both you and Shane so it knows you guys and will always let you in." He wiped a hand over his mouth. "Workin' on a program to help it along but, you know, gotta start somewhere."

Lori blinked at him, and shook her head. "How that great big brain of yours fits into your head, Daryl, I'll never know," she said, before hooking her hand into his elbow and walking with him down the hallway towards the stairs.

"So where are we goin' exactly?"

Lori smiled. "On Wednesdays we usually go to Carol's, but she has her daughter over at a friend's so we all figured we'd go out someplace nice."

Daryl looked down at himself and raised an eyebrow. "Should I change?"

Lori slapped his arm. "Nope! I talked her down to _semi_ -nice. You'll be fine. We're just going to a Starbucks and then I thought you and I could grab food. I'm eating for two now, after all." And she said it proudly, confidently, and Daryl smiled at her because he knew she hadn't always been so eager to be a mother.

"Don't worry, darlin', I'll make sure you can't get outta the chair from eatin' so much."

"Don't you _dare_ ," Lori scolded, but her dark eyes were wide and bright with mirth. They walked through the rest of the building in companionable silence until they reached Daryl's truck. He opened the door for her and helped her haul herself up into the seat, before closing the door and walking around to the other side.

"Navigator?" he prompted, and handed her his phone for her to type in the address.

She grinned and took it. "I think we can get there without your precious technology. Just drive."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the flashback cliche, but truthfully I'd already written that part and I didn't want it to just disappear so yay! Flashback!
> 
> Also the added tags are because Pete Anderson is a douchebag, nothing to do with Rick and Daryl.

_"C’mon buddy, c’mon." Daryl winced as another high-pitched wail left the little bundle in his arms. With a small grunt, he shifted Carl further up his chest so that the baby’s head was resting comfortably against his shoulder. "It’ll be okay," he murmured, rubbing his hand gently up and down the baby’s back, wincing again when all it earned from him was an outpouring of tears and another scream. "Damn it. Rick!"_

_Rick entered the room swiftly, alarmed at both the infant’s crying and Daryl’s anxious call of his name. “Daryl, what is it?” he asked, immediately going over and smoothing a hand across the nape of the Omega’s neck, his other covering Daryl’s where it rested against the child’s back._

_"Your son,” Daryl growled, closing his eyes. He was so fucking tired, Jesus, no one had ever told him being a parent would be quite this nerve-wracking. The stench of Omega distress was probably very bitter from an outsider’s perspective, and his suspicions were confirmed when Rick gently nosed along the baby’s ear, then Daryl’s shoulder._

_"He’s distressed because you’re distressed,” he said after a moment. Then, he smiled, unable to help but feel proud that even as a baby Carl had such strong instincts. “He’s worried for his mother.”_

_"Yeah, well, I’m not the -. Fuck it.” Daryl cradled his son close, rocking him gently back and forth as he walked towards the crib. Already Carl’s cries were starting to die down, recognizing the presence of another Alpha in the home even if Rick’s scent was new and dull to him, not as easily recognized as Daryl’s._

_After a moment the Omega turned back around, sighing. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just – I’m just really fucking tired, and he won’t stop crying.”_

_Rick’s expression softened in sympathy and he reached out, cradling Carl carefully in his arms when Daryl handed him off. Immediately Rick began to hum a soft tune, his big hands wrapped around Carl’s wriggling body as he pressed little kisses to the top of his head. Daryl watched for a long moment as, unbelievably, Carl began to quiet even further until the only sounds he was making were soft burbles, his eyes finally closing._

_Daryl swallowed. “Is that the Frasier theme tune?” he asked._

_Rick sent him a wink, grinning against the top of Carl’s head._

_Daryl shook his head, gently taking the dozing child and kissing him gently on the forehead before putting him down. It was always a delicate balancing act with Carl, placing him that final few feet between laying against his parent’s chest and into the crib. The Omega let out another quiet breath when Carl appeared to be perfectly happy slumbering on, tucked in tight to his blanket with one green-sleeved arm poking out._

_Daryl smiled when Rick’s strong arms wrapped around him in a gentle hug. “He’s beautiful, Daryl,” the Alpha said, kissing Daryl’s shoulder before resting his cheek there, content to hold his mate while Daryl spent a few quiet moments in their son’s presence._

_Daryl caught one of Rick’s hands and brought it up to his lips to kiss. “Yeah,” he said, feeling Rick smile against his back. “We did good."_

 

 

 

 

They managed to get to the Starbucks without relying on Daryl's phone to guide them. Lori directed him easily even though Daryl had long stopped recognizing the streets and shops they passed as he drove. Granted, he never really went anywhere except Carl's school and the grocery store anymore, and while Lori seemed to know her way around well enough, he couldn't help shake the feeling that he was lost in the middle of his own city.

"What kind of support group is this, anyway?" he asked to distract himself, pulling into the parking lot and putting the truck in park before killing the engine.

"It's not a _support group_ ," Lori said with too much emphasis and a roll of her eyes. "I mean, we all have that kind of thing in common – most of us, anyway – but these people are also my friends. And they know – they know who you are. To me."

Daryl nodded. "So they know -."

"About him, yes."

Daryl closed his eyes and swallowed hard, his throat clicking, his fingers gripping the steering wheel hard as though he could will the machine back to life and speed away just from his touch. Lori and Shane knew better than to say his name around Daryl now – he was sure they still talked about him, called him by name in that casual, sad way that life-long friends could do when they talked about someone who had died, but Daryl had never been able to bring himself to do it. He couldn't even let himself think of his mate's name.

Opening his closet and going through his things the other night had hit him in a way he hadn't been ready for, even though he knew it was coming, and the weekend had given him very little time to dwell on it. The box was still sitting in the corner of his bedroom, ready and waiting for when he finally got brave enough to open it and let all those ghosts slither out.

"I don't know if I can do this," Daryl said, thinking of going into that coffee shop and seeing their faces, looking into their eyes and seeing the pity flash there before it was covered by something else. Everyone had it – the teachers at Carl's school, the few people he fixed computers for that had known him before his mate's death, and even strangers who managed to figure out the situation before he had a chance to distract them. Always pity, always sadness. They didn't fucking know the half of it.

Lori's small hand settled over his fist, resting gently. "It means the world to me that you came at all," she said quietly. "You can just drop me off and pick me up later if you want."

Daryl thought about it, about leaving her here in these well-known and yet so unfamiliar streets unattended. Shane wasn't around and he didn't think there would be any Alphas in a support group like this, so she would have no protection if something were to happen. Daryl's fingers twitched, his mind unable to stop itself thinking of Lori, if something had happened to her – how Shane would react. How _Carl_ would react. What life would be like without her.

He shook his head. "Nah, I'll come in," he said with a decisive nod, chewing the inside of his lower lip. "Jus' gimme a second."

She smiled at him and sat in silence, one hand absently rubbing over her swollen stomach as they sat in the truck. Daryl stared out of the windshield, hard, looking without really seeing until Lori sat up a little straighter.

"I can see Carol," she said, pointing to one of the tables inside. There were three women and an Omega sat around it, smiling and nursing their coffees. The Omega had a scone in front of him that he was offering to one of the women, his smile easy and happy as she accepted the offer. But Lori was pointing at another woman, with short-cropped grey hair and deep smile lines and bright eyes. She was pretty, and looked worn but happy. Daryl remembered Lori saying she had a child.

"Who else is there?" he asked.

"That's Beth and Maggie," Lori said, pointing to the other two women. "They're sisters, lost their father and step-brother, mother's been gone a while, too. I think they're the only family they have left. The brunette's Maggie, and I don't recognize the Omega but I think that must be Glenn. They just started dating."

Daryl snorted. "I feel like there should be a water cooler next to us."

"Oh, like you've ever stood next to one of those in your life," Lori replied with a light slap to his arm. "But, Mr. Smartass, you look better. Ready to go inside? I'll let you pretend that the girly drink is for me."

"They won't believe me. I ain't orderin' decaf," Daryl said with a huff and a shake of his head, but shoved himself out of the truck and around the front in time to help Lori down. She hooked her arm in his again as they walked inside and made their way to the counter. Lori waved at Carol once they entered, getting their attention, so by the time they approached the table with their coffees there were already two more chairs waiting for them around the small table.

"Hey, Lori," Maggie greeted first, her smile gentle and her jewel-colored eyes settling on Lori's stomach before they reached the woman's face. She had a lovely voice and a kind smile that Daryl could see mirrored in Beth's grin. "Who's this?"

"I finally convinced Daryl to come join us," Lori said proudly, tapping her hand against Daryl's arm before unwinding it to wrap both hands around her coffee mug.

"Oh, so _you're_ Daryl," Carol said, a twinkle in her spring-grass-colored eyes that matched her mischievous smirk as she lifted her cup in greeting. "I was starting to wonder if Lori was going to tease me about your existence for the rest of my life."

"Uh." Daryl's cheeks colored and he looked down, digging his thumbnail into the plastic lid of his cup. "Yeah, sorry to keep you waitin'. I don't get out much."

"Kids," Carol said with a solemn nod and Daryl found himself nodding along with her. There was something about her, he supposed, that put him at ease – the same kind of attitude that people had when they'd seen it all and had no time for people to be getting all upset over their own shit. Daryl had the feeling that he could completely lose it around her and she would listen, nod, and light him a cigarette without a word. "They'll keep you busy."

"You have kids?" Beth chirped, sitting forward. The heels of her hands were braced on either side of her thighs on her chair, her legs swinging even though she was definitely tall enough to keep her feet on the floor. "How many? How old?"

"Uh, just my one boy. Carl. He's ten."

"Sophia's eight," Carol said. "Love her more than life but she's got too much energy for me most days."

At that, Daryl managed a laugh and took a sip of his coffee. The attention was drawn from him as Lori sat forward and confirmed that the other Omega was, in fact, Glenn – Maggie's boyfriend – and she asked how they met and what Glenn did and all the other kinds of things that parents were supposed to ask their daughters' boyfriends. Daryl got the distinct impression that, for Maggie and Beth, Carol and Lori and whoever else made the rest of the group served as their immediate family in the absence of their blood relatives.

It was a nice thought, and the atmosphere was relaxed and calm. Before Daryl knew it, it was ten at night and when his eyes caught the clock hanging above the espresso machine he made a vaguely anxious sound.

"S'getting late," he murmured to Lori. "You hungry?"

Lori nodded, her eyes wide. " _Starving_ ," she replied, then stood. "Alright guys, it's been fun, but this guy owes me steak." She winked at Daryl, who laughed under his breath and got to his feet.

"Drive safe, guys!" Beth said brightly, giving a little wave that Daryl returned.

"Text me when we're doing this again," Lori said, shouldering her bag.

"Of course. Daryl, will you be joining us again, do you think?"

Carol was the one who asked, her voice still calm and sweet but her eyes fixed heavily on Daryl's face. Daryl knew that look – he had one himself. It was one of a stern parent, the 'I know what's best for you so if you think you're smart you'll go along with what I'm saying' look.

He smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Yeah. Probably. Lori will let me know."

"Alright." At once Carol's expression melted away into a welcoming smile. "Have a good night."

They made their way back to Daryl's truck and Daryl helped Lori into the car. "What're you in the mood for?" he asked once he had settled into his own seat, engine started and truck rumbling away, ready to go.

Lori made a face, thinking to herself. "You know what? Actually, I want a burger. I'm talkin' Steak'n'Shake seven-layer burger with thousand island and garlic and.... Shane doesn't let me eat anything greasy but that's what I want." She turned to him with a mischievous smile, her eyes glimmering. "You game?"

"Oh _Hell_ yeah I'm game," Daryl replied with a grin, shifting the truck into reverse before he peeled out of the parking lot. Lori had to navigate back to their neighborhood but once there Daryl managed to get to the closest fast food joint. They both got three burgers and a mountain of fries between them and crept back to Lori's apartment with their loot. Lori offered him wine and they both stayed up until midnight watching _House Hunters_ and eating that shitty, greasy food until Shane came home.

"Oh, hey," Daryl said, getting to his feet, a little unsteadily. Lori couldn't drink, of course, so Daryl had taken it upon himself to open and empty the bottle. Only when he stood did he realize just how much he'd had and how long it had been since he had had a drink.

Shane grinned at him. "C'mon, man, lemme walk you home," he said, giving Lori a kiss on the forehead before he helped Daryl to the door and up the stairs to his own apartment. "Carl's asleep, out like a light. You gonna be okay?" Shane asked once they were inside.

Daryl nodded, licking his lips. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Drink some water. Have a good night," Shane said with a small squeeze to Daryl's shoulder, before he took his leave. Daryl made sure all the locks were done, the chain drawn, the system on, before he fell into his own bed fully clothed. He was asleep in minutes.

 

 

 

 

Predictably, he woke up with a bitch of a hangover and dry mouth like he'd been licking the Sahara Desert. He groaned, grabbing his pillow and shoving his head underneath it as he heard Carl's cartoons already playing on the TV. It was softly, like Carl already knew Daryl would have a headache, but still the sound pierced through his skull and set his teeth on edge.

He chanced a moment to glare at the clock and was relieved when it blinked 7:30 at him. Still time to get Carl to school and dry himself out. That was good.

With the same iron will that had gotten him through labor, Daryl pushed himself upright and staggered to the medicine cabinet. He downed two aspirin dry and two Excedrin as well because fuck stomach linings, and then made his way out of his room to the main living area.

"Hey, dad," Carl greeted gently, smiling at him as Daryl ruffled his hair on the way to the kitchen.

"Mornin', buddy," Daryl replied, getting a glass of water and chugging it down. "You eat already?"

Carl nodded. "Fruit loops."

"Brushed your teeth?"

"Yep."

"Thank God for you," Daryl said with a shake of his head, smiling as he filled the water glass again and drank it, a little more slowly. Honestly, he knew he had been blessed with Carl as a child. The kid had always been low maintenance, even as a baby – with a few exceptions, of course, but that was just how babies were. Daryl knew he had been given a fucking diamond in the rough and couldn't even blame half of it on his own less-than-stellar parenting. "Alright, ten minutes and I'll drive you to school, okay?"

"Okay!" Carl said, smiling and turning off the TV as he jumped to his feet and went to his room to grab his school supplies and put on shoes and socks. Daryl was a mess, dressed in last night's clothes and in desperate need of a shower, but it wasn't like he was going to be doing anything other than making the quick half-hour round trip to Carl's school, so he didn't bother doing much more than raking his fingers through his hair to straighten it out before grabbing his keys and herding his son out of the door.

When he got back the house was clean except for a few things, and although his dry mouth was better the pills had yet to really kick in, so he went back to sleep for another hour. When he woke up one more time he felt better, lighter than he had in days. A shower and a self-indulgent meal of chocolate chip pancakes only went to further that feeling and by midday he was in a better mood than he remembered being in a long time.

Lori texted him that afternoon while he was busy trying to figure out how to tell Mr. Horvath that his computer was fucked and from last century and there was nothing Daryl could do at this point beyond factory resetting it.

_Regret. Deep regret._

Daryl laughed.

_How's that burger treating you, darlin?_

_Fuck you._

Daryl laughed, pocketing his phone, and rubbed his hands over his face as he heaved a deep sigh. Screw Mr. Horvath for now – the guy could wait another day for the bad news. Instead, Daryl grabbed the screen sitting on his kitchen counter and swiped it on, grinning at the 'Hello, Daryl' and the little chirp that greeted him.

He plugged the tablet into his computer to pull up the device, as well as the programs he'd been working on to customize it as he saw fit. The system had few safeguards, wanting to be as versatile as it could be for an Omega's needs while it was still in the setup process, and so while it was intuitive and easy, it was also very easy to manipulate from the inside. Which was good – sure made Daryl's life a Hell of a lot easier.

First, he expanded the dictionary. His Alpha simulator was going to be able to swear, God damn it, because what good was having a robot companion if it couldn't swear. Next he configured it to be able to access the TV, the little keypad by the door, as well as the second screen Daryl kept by his bed.

Next he started playing with the voice settings. They were predictable – one a dull robot just like every other robot in the world, flat and vaguely masculine but nothing spectacular. There was a female one, too, which made Daryl hum in consideration because he'd never heard of a female Alpha but he supposed there might be one somewhere in the world, or some Omegas might prefer their simulator to sound female.

There was one that was deeper, more rumbling. One that sounded vaguely like Morgan Freeman. Daryl grunted and set the screen down, his eyes inevitably drawn to his bedroom door.

He shouldn't.

He _wanted_ to.

Maybe it was his good mood, or maybe it was because for the first time in years he actually had gone _outside_ and _interacted_ with people and he felt like he might actually be getting somewhere, but Daryl found himself, somehow, with the box of cassette recorders on his kitchen counter next to his computer, open and ready. His fingers trembled as he touched the first one and he bit his lower lip, _hard_ , as he plugged in the audio cable that would connect the recorder to his computer. He searched for and downloaded some recording software from the internet and looked up how the best way to grab the audio would be online.

It seemed simple enough. And then his voice…his voice would be in the machine. Daryl would _hear_ it.

Daryl sighed and closed the computer, recorder still plugged in.

It was progress.

 

 

 

 

When Daryl went to go pick Carl up from school, he paused as he saw a larger-than-normal group of kids hanging around Carl as the bell rang and all the students began to file out. With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he cut the truck's engine and climbed out, making his way over to the ring of students surrounding his son. He didn't need to get close to hear the jeers and yells of 'Fight! Fight!' coming from them.

When he got to the edge he could see Carl with another Alpha boy, circling him while the other kid had his teeth bared and his eyes burning red with anger. Carl looked calm but ready, like he was just waiting for the right time to lunge.

Daryl didn't let the other kid have the chance. He shoved through the group of students and hauled Carl back by the arm.

"What the Hell's goin' on here?" he demanded, pleased when most of the students with any sense of self-preservation scattered like roaches in the light. The other Alpha kid, though, with a group that were clearly his back-up, remained, growling at Carl.

"He called my dad a piece of shit," the other kid spat, pacing back and forth rapidly like a tiger in a cage. His chest was puffed out and his shoulders were up and Daryl turned back to Carl with a raised eyebrow.

"He beats him," Carl murmured. "And his mom and his brother. I saw the bruises on 'em. Wanted to tell someone and then he jumped me."

Righteous anger burned in Carl's eyes behind the calm, and in that moment he looked so much like his father, jaw squared and gaze steady, that Daryl had to take a moment to remember how to breathe.

"That so?" he asked, looking back to the other kid.

"At least I _have_ a dad," the kid hissed, and Daryl felt Carl tense up under his hand.

"Ron!"

Daryl's head snapped up to see a thin, pretty blonde woman rushing towards the other kid. She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, her hands on both of his cheeks and giving him a quick shake. "What do you think you're doing? Getting into fights at school?"

Ron growled at her but said nothing, and she took his hand and shot an apologetic look Daryl's way.

"I'm sorry," she said, holding out her hand. "Jessie Anderson."

Numbly, Daryl reached out and shook her hand. Her name pinged vaguely for him, printed on some flyer for a bake sale a few months back. Or a chaperone for a soccer game. Something vaguely white-suburban-mom-ish. "Daryl Dixon," he said. "It's fine. Boys fight."

At his name, that look flashed across her face – _Daryl Dixon, poor kid, married to a cop who got killed in the line of duty, single father, so sad_. The pity, the sorrow, before it was covered up with something politer and more suitable to suburbia. God, Daryl really hated people.

"I'll talk to Ron," she said soothingly. "Is your boy okay?"

"I'm fine," Carl snapped before Daryl could say anything. He glared at Ron for a moment before turning his face away. "Can we go now?"

"Sure thing, buddy," Daryl said, stepping back and letting go of his son once he was sure that the aggression had melted from the two kids. Carl walked in silence by his side, closer than usual, and Daryl sighed as they both clambered into the truck and Daryl pulled away from the school. "I'm sorry that…that kid said what he said."

"Ron's an asshole," Carl replied shortly and Daryl didn't even have the heart to scold him for his language. "Takes out all his problems on other people. I don't care about that. I just…I see how much it hurts you. When people mention 'im."

Daryl's heart leapt in his chest and then promptly corkscrewed down to his stomach. His fingers tightened on the wheel. "I'm sorry, Carl," he said hoarsely.

"Are you okay?" Carl asked.

Daryl had to bite his lip hard and lift his arm so that his elbow rested against the window, his hand across his mouth, until he could fight back the lump in his throat. " _God_ , you remind me so much of him sometimes," he murmured, too quietly to really be heard but Carl heard him, his eyes big and the same blue as his father's as he turned his head to look at Daryl. "In the best way, promise. I'm a lucky son of a bitch to have you in my life, buddy." He reached out and squeezed Carl's shoulder. "So, yeah, I'm okay."

Carl smiled. "Good. I love you, dad."

"I love ya too, kiddo."

They were a block away from Daryl's apartment building before Daryl paused at the light, abruptly pulling into the right turn lane and changing directions.

"Where are we goin'?" Carl asked, sitting up straighter.

"Gettin' burgers," Daryl said, raising an eyebrow. "That okay with you?"

Carl grinned. "Hells yeah!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've upped the rating to Mature because we're getting implied things and also more adult conversations SO. There's that.
> 
> I should have proof read this better but didn't.
> 
> Also here's a plot-twist. I actually liked Frasier as a kid. Daryl, apparently, does not like that show.

Once they had eaten their weight in burgers and Carl's eyes were starting to droop from the kind of exhaustion only the well-fed can have, Daryl took him home.

"You got any homework?" he asked, taking Carl's backpack and hefting it onto the kitchen counter as Carl toed off his shoes and pulled his sweater over his head to throw down onto the floor next to them.

The boy nodded, looking vaguely put out by the idea. "Yeah. Science. S'hard," he said, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Daryl grunted as Carl walked over to the kitchen counter where he normally did his homework and hoisted himself up onto one of the bar stools along the edge, next to Daryl's laptop and the box of cassette tapes and recorders.

A box that Daryl only just realized he hadn't put away. He knew immediately when Carl noticed them, his eyes curious and his fingers curled meekly against the edge of the counter, like he knew he shouldn't ask about them but couldn't help himself.

Too curious for his own good, just like his father.

"…You playin' more with the system?" Carl asked, his tone carefully neutral. Just like his father's 'Cop voice'. Daryl swallowed, his dry throat clicking, and grabbed the same glass of water he'd used to wash away his hangover earlier that day, refilled it and took a long swallow.

"Yeah," he replied, because he had always tried to be honest with his son. Neither he nor Carl's father had humored him with lies like the moon was made of cheese or that the world was fair. Especially not when he was old enough to know that on his own now. "I…I wasn't too impressed with the voice options. Thought about toying around with it a little."

Carl hummed, his eyes carefully fixed on his backpack as he pulled his notepad and science textbook out. There was a bookmark that he'd gotten in his Christmas stocking one year, with the words _Die Hard_ and pictures to make it look like the black piece of plastic was riddled with white bullet holes. It had been a whim to buy, Daryl had seen it and loved it on sight, and so had Carl. It was ridiculous but the fact that Carl still used it stabbed at that part of Daryl that was still raw, that might not ever recover from the loss of his mate – stuck something sharp and metal in that spot and twisted.

"Do you remember what his voice sounded like?" he asked, knowing immediately that it was a completely unfair question to ask of a ten-year-old. Carl's eyes snapped up to him, wide and bright. Daryl cleared his throat. "Your dad. He used to sing to you. Do you remember that?"

Carl frowned, blinking down at his textbook, before he nodded once, slowly. "I…think so," he said hesitantly, his voice high and young. "I remember…" And he started humming a tune – off-key and off-tempo, just like his father used to sing it, and Daryl downed the rest of his water and wished with all of his might that it was whiskey.

" _Frasier_ ," he whispered, shaking his head. "Put you right out, every time you wouldn't sleep. Can't blame ya, show's boring as Hell."

Carl smiled – a small and sad thing. "Did dad like to watch it?"

Daryl shrugged one shoulder. "Honestly I think he only watched it to piss me off," he replied. A weak laugh followed, but it was a laugh, even strained and laced with something like a whine. "But, you know, long nights on watch or whatever, I think it's just what was playin'. Your uncle Shane hates the show, too." He shook his head. "But you…you loved that song."

Carl smiled at him, and they both remained still and silent for a long time. Then he looked towards the box again.

"Is that dad in there?" he asked, nodding towards the single recorder still laying out. "You gonna make it sound like him?"

Daryl licked his lips, straightening. "Was thinkin' about it. Don't think it's a good idea."

"Will it make you feel safe?"

Daryl frowned at his son, at once wondering how a ten-year-old could speak like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and also sound like he'd only just learned to talk. "What?"

"That's what the system is meant to do, right? Shane said it's to make us safe, and the TV says it's meant to act like an Alpha so that you don't have to worry about yourself or about me all the time. So, did dad do that? Did he make you feel safe?"

Daryl swallowed, hard, and nodded. This shouldn't be something he talked about with his child – Carl still deserved to be a kid, not asking questions like this, like he had to worry about Daryl's safety and health as though he was a Pack-Alpha like Shane and not his fucking _child_. Legally when Carl came of age Daryl would be his responsibility but they had a long time before that happened and already Daryl was starting to feel more like a burden than anything else at times.

"Then I think you should do it," Carl finished with a decisive nod. "I mean, it'd be the same as making it Uncle Shane's voice, or my voice – it's just an Alpha, right?"

 _No_. "Right you are, kiddo," Daryl said hoarsely, forcing himself to smile and straighten up. "You're way smarter than your old man, I'll give you that." He reached forward and ruffled Carl's hair, grinning a little more easily at the young Alpha's disgruntled, accepting huff. "Now, let's focus on making you smarter, hmm? You said this you needed help with homework?"

"Yeah," Carl muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "We have to draw diagrams of circuits and stuff and write out what they do and what they're called and stuff like that and, I mean, I _get_ what they do but visualizing them is hard sometimes."

"Well it's a good thing I'm here, then," Daryl replied, circling the kitchen counter and taking a seat next to his son. He pushed the laptop to one side and carefully set it on top of the box of recorders for later so that Carl had space to lay out his textbook and notes. The only interruption was Lori, texting him to say that Carol had invited the two of them out for brunch on Sunday.

Ugh, _brunch_. If there was anything more white-suburbia than brunch, he couldn't name it. But he agreed, because he really did need to get out more and Carol's group seemed non-threatening and welcoming enough. And with Lori there it would be easier. And Carl had wanted to sleep over at a friend's house that night so he didn't have to worry about feeding him or keeping him entertained. Sometimes Daryl thought that Carl, Shane and Lori secretly planned things behind his back to make them look like happy coincidences. He knew his mate used to do that with his friends. Maybe it was genetic.

After finished Carl's homework they stayed up way too late eating Doritos and watching play-throughs of video games. Daryl tucked Carl in and made sure both of their alarms were set in time to get up, shower and get to school the next day. The box of cassette recorders remained on the kitchen counter the entire night, unnoticed but not forgotten, as they both went to their respective rooms and fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

When Carl was off to school the next day without incident, Daryl had the house and the day to himself. He had a few tickets open of jobs he was doing for people – he finally called Mr. Horvath and gave him the news about his crapped-out computer as well as a few recommendations for new models that he may or may not get a commission off of if the guy ended up buying one. He debugged and completely cleaned out Ms. Harrison's drive (who had an awful lot of porn on there and didn't bother hiding it, no wonder she had so many fucking viruses), and sent it back to her in the mail, and sat through an hour-long call with some guy nestled in the Philippines that Daryl suspected was some kind of secret government agent from the way he talked but was the guy who always needed information and relied on Daryl to keep his security up and his searches untraceable.

The morning fled by swiftly but then the afternoon rolled around with nothing to do except avoid his laptop and his closet and watch mind-numbing TV until it was time to pick up Carl.

At least, that had been his plan.

Noon found him nursing a beer and eating hot-dogs barely-warm from the microwave, channel surfing, when he caught the familiar trill of the _Frasier_ theme tune. He should have kept clicking past but it was like his thumb had frozen on the button and he'd caught himself sitting there, watching as the tune ended and the opening scene of the show began – all eloquent, witty banter and jokes that _barely_ touched him as they flew over his head.

Daryl was smart, he _knew_ he was smart, but this just seemed pompous, honestly.

He turned the TV off and flung the remote away with an annoyed sound, and set his beer down before he could throw the bottle too. It hit the wooden table hard enough to make a hollow 'thunk' and Daryl sighed, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. He was used to feeling tired – having a baby and then losing a mate and then raising a child on your own could do that to you – but now he just felt _weary_. Heart, mind, and soul, he was _tired_.

He was tired of fighting, tired of pretending that everything was okay. He just wanted to go back in time, stop that horrible day in its tracks – force his mate to stay in bed with him and sleep and fuck the day away and pawn Carl off on Lori while she was still in that awkward maternal-idealist phase and make sure he never went on that call with Shane and never got shot and never _died_.

Daryl hadn't been able to say his name in years, or hear it, and for a long time even thinking of police cars or seeing Shane in his uniform or going within ten blocks of the hospital where they'd taken him had set him on edge like he was a cornered feral cat facing down a rabid dog. He hadn't felt stable, hadn't felt _safe_ , in years. Not since he'd heard the news, not since he had felt it in his own chest, that _tug_ that sat like a harpoon behind his heart suddenly…gone. Like the rope had been snapped, even though it hadn't. Now it just felt like he had pulled too hard and ripped a part of himself out with it in order to survive, like his mate had been sinking into the ocean with cement tied to his limbs and Daryl had needed to break bones and carve out his chest so that he could live. For their son. For their friends.

Daryl prided himself on being analytical and logical but damn could he be melodramatic.

He shook his head at his own thoughts and forced himself to his feet. He'd decided – that's what decisions were, right? There were studies that said everything you agonize over, everything you choose, you've already made up your mind about and then you rationalize it afterwards. Well, he'd made up his mind. He was going to put his mate's voice in the machine, because after all, Carl had been right – he _did_ make Daryl feel safe. Safest he'd ever felt, in his mate's arms, surrounded by his scent, listening to his breathing. And if Daryl could even have a third of that he'd fight and kill for it.

He opened his laptop and let the thing whir to life, and pulled it off of the box so that he could root around inside. There were almost thirty recorders in total, hours and hours and hours of tape of his mate's voice, his thoughts, his _life_. Each was labeled for the time period they covered – some over months, when the cases were few and the days were slow – and there was a trio that covered a single day. A big crime ring. Human trafficking, if Daryl recalled correctly. Sometimes it amazed him what kind of sick things people could get up to.

Programming the ANGAL system would mean that he would listen to all of it, cutting and splicing until he had perfectly mimicked most of the vocabulary into something an Alpha simulator might say. He'd also write a code, he thought, pulling up the recording software and starting the process up of rewinding the tapes, that would let the device pull from words already coded and fill in whatever gaps there could be. So that it would be able to say almost anything.

Daryl smiled to himself, and took a deep breath. He'd have to listen, but he was ready. After five years, it was time he started making real progress and if that meant listening to hours and hours of his mate's voice to program an Alpha simulator so that he didn't quite feel so alone – well, everyone has their own way of coping, right?

He grabbed the screen and flicked it open, plugging it into the other side of his laptop and pulling up the program that let him see the inner coding of the simulator. Lines of green and blue in their matrix met his eyes and he started the tape recorder, a gentle, pleased hum escaping him when he saw the recording software move up and down as it captured the words on the tape. He let that work in the background, giving his laptop a sympathetic pat as it started to whir more insistently. He pulled the simulator's coding back onto its screen so that he could unplug it and sit back on the couch and work.

By the time he had to leave to get Carl he had started the second tape and shut down the screen, letting the recording software stream straight to the screen so that he could hopefully work on it later that night after Carl was asleep.

Shane met him at the door, coming in as Daryl was going out, and put an arm across the door suddenly to stop him. Daryl squinted at him. "What?" he demanded.

"Something's different," Shane said, his dark eyes looking Daryl up and down like there was a physical difference on him. Daryl looked down at himself, then back up at Shane. "What's up, man? How's life?" Shane asked, pulling his arm away, but he didn't make much of an effort to get out of the way of the door.

Daryl's eyes narrowed further, more of a glare now. "Fine," he said flatly. "Just, you know, going to pick up my kid. As I always do on Fridays."

Shane nodded, trapping his tongue between his teeth and biting down. "Yeah, I see that," he replied with another nod of his head. Then, he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping out of Daryl's way. Daryl hurried by without a word, irritated although he couldn't quite figure out why.

Maybe it was because Shane, as fucking usual, was right. Daryl _felt_ different.

He was… _excited._ He hadn't hesitated on the threshold of his door after leaving his apartment, and hadn't even thought to call Shane or Lori to come with him to get Carl. Of course, he was capable of going alone and often did but he couldn't deny that it made him feel better to have one of them with him when he was out.

But he didn't feel that way, right now. He wanted to go get Carl and come back so that he could work more on the machine. He felt jittery, like a nicotine withdrawal with no headache or cravings. He felt excited, alive, energetic. The tiredness was still there, sticking to the soles of his feet like wet socks, but he could _almost_ ignore it when he thought about his simulator, about all the cool tweaks he could do to it and all the things he could show Carl.

Carl was on his own when Daryl pulled up in front of the school. He climbed into the truck without a word, which was enough to let Daryl know that something wasn't right.

"Carl?" he hazarded, reaching over to rest a hand on his son's shoulder. Carl didn't flinch away or make a move to brush him off, but he was tense as a bowstring under Daryl's hand and it made Daryl frown. He squeezed Carl's shoulder gently. "Hey, kiddo, what's wrong?"

"S'nothin'," Carl replied sullenly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Alright," Daryl said with a sigh. "Whose ass I gotta kick?"

That, at least, earned an amused snort from the boy. "No one. Just…Ron bein' a jerk again."

Daryl growled under his breath, gripping the steering wheel just a little too tightly as he pulled away from the school. "What'd he say this time?" he asked.

Carl shook his head, voice tight. "Doesn't matter," he replied. "Long as he keeps his mouth shut from now on I don't gotta problem."

Daryl smirked and shook his head. "I'm seriously considerin' payin' his folks a visit, lettin' their kid act that way. His dad especially, fuckin' asshole."

"No!" Carl said harshly, lifting his chin and looking at Daryl with wide eyes. " _No_. You don't need to go talk to them. I can deal with it."

His voice was shaking. Frowning, Daryl slowed to a stop and pulled off onto the side of the road, flicking on the hazard lights and putting the car in park so that he could turn and fully face his son.

"What did he say, Carl?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral and calm. He wasn't sure how well he succeeded – Carl's father couldn't use a poker face to save his life, when he hated you, you knew it, and when he was angry, he didn't try to hide it. When he was happy he was _radiant._  But Daryl had been raised in the world of con men and liars. He was better at hiding what he was really thinking – at least, from everyone but his mate. He'd always seen right through him.

Carl growled to himself, pulling his feet up so that his heels rested against the edge of his chair and he sank lower in his seat. His long hair hid his eyes but not his face, the way his rounded jaw clenched hard, and Daryl could see where his fingers were whiting out the insides of his arms where they gripped hard.

"He said that his dad would come see us," Carl spat out, "and make you remember – remember what a _real_ Alpha acts like."

Daryl felt his spine grow hot and his stomach turn cold all at once, anger and horror rising up in equal measure to choke out his lungs. He was torn between the urge to find that sick son of a bitch and beat him to a bloody pulp, and comfort his child when he was so obviously distressed.

He turned back to face forward in his seat, breathing out deeply, and started to drive again.

"That kid comes up to you again," he said through gritted teeth, "you punch him straight in the mouth, you hear me?"

Carl grunted. "Yes, sir."

Daryl hummed, working his fingers against the steering wheel for another long moment, before he sighed. He _really_ shouldn't be condoning violence between children, and definitely not when one of those children already had a shitty life being beaten at the hands of his father. "No," he finally said with a shake of his head. "That boy comes up to you again you get the principle to call me. _And_ that mom of his. And I'll bring Lori and Shane, and we'll do it right."

Carl frowned, but didn't reply. Daryl took another deep breath and fought the urge to run up the stairs as fast as he could to get his son out of sight. Being threatened wasn't new – living the life he had and then living with a police officer who had a knack for finding the more vicious and brutal criminals out there, Daryl was used to being threatened and treated like he was nothing better than a bitch who'd cower at the first hint of Alpha. Daryl had never been a bitch and even if he wasn't exactly comfortable being outside, around _people_ all the time, that had less to do with his own fear and more to do with the fact that the outside world seemed far less exciting and wonderful without his mate in it.

So Daryl wasn't afraid, and he refused to be cowed. If Jessie Anderson's husband wanted to make this into a spectacle, then Daryl would give him a Goddamn spectacle.

Carl went to bed early after Daryl fed him, tired from staying up late and knowing he could get away with doing no homework because of the weekend, but Daryl couldn't sleep. The second recorder had finished and so he plugged in the third. The screen was in rest mode, gently pulsing a pretty, light blue, and Daryl let it be and flicked on _The Biggest Loser_ on mute while he heated up a one-person TV dinner.

That night he dreamed that he was in a fight, his back to an Alpha's as they were surrounded by monsters from all sides. There was a crossbow in his hand and a knife strapped to his thigh – the kind he used to take out with him to the woods when he was a kid and before he moved to the city, the kind meant for skinning small game. He could hear gunfire but it was muted.

One by one the monsters fell until it was the two of them, and then gentle hands were turning him. His head was bowed and he couldn't bring himself to lift his head, but he recognized the pattern of breathing, he could feel the gaze on his face – familiar and heavy. He knew, if he looked up, who he'd see.

But he couldn't make himself do it.

"Daryl," he voice said, so soft and far away that it sounded as though it was being whispered through a train tunnel, and so distorted by the time it reached him that it was barely recognizable. But Daryl knew the voice. He would always know that voice.

"Rick," he whispered, the word soft and scraping the inside of his throat like iron wool. As if the name itself had power to hurt him.

Then, he woke up, aching and sore behind his heart and his head pounding like the worst hangover in his life.

 

 

 

 

Lori and Shane came up to Daryl's apartment with groceries that morning. Carl was doing schoolwork and Daryl was toying with the screen at the time. When they entered the screen chirped out a greeting, the words _'Hello, Lori. Hello, Shane'_ flicking across the screen and making Daryl smile.

"No, no, don't get up," Shane said with a huff as he dragged the grocery bags into the kitchen. "Just an overworked protector of the people and his pregnant wife hauling food in for your lazy asses."

"The last time I offered to help, Lori yelled at me," Daryl said with a raised eyebrow.

Lori huffed, putting her hands on her hips and blowing an errand lock of hair out of her face. " _That last time_ was ten years ago, Daryl Dixon, and you were pregnant!"

"And I haven't forgotten your wishes," Daryl replied with a lazy salute, but pushed himself to his feet anyway and came to greet her with a hug. He was also grateful, suddenly, that he had thought to clear off the counter and put his laptop and the recordings in a somewhat hidden location – not immediately visible, at least. He knew what he was doing, but he wasn't sure how he would break the news to Lori and Shane. Or, exactly, how they would react.

"Hey, buddy," Shane greeted, ruffling Carl's hair. "Come help me put these things away?"

"Sure!" Carl chirped, sliding off the stool and circling the counter to help Shane organize and sort the groceries. They really had been running low, and Daryl had to thank his lucky stars that he had such attentive friends.

"Carol's so excited for brunch tomorrow," Lori said with a smile, taking a seat next to where Daryl was on the couch. "Beth will be there, and also this lady named Michonne. I've never met her before but Carol likes her and from what I've heard you two will hit it off."

"'Hit it off'?" Daryl repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"Like, as friends," Lori replied with a roll of her eyes. "Christ, Daryl, I'm not trying to be your wingman. Woman. Whatever." She rolled her eyes again with a huff. "I just heard that she's a bit of an asshole, and if Shane's friends are any indication, assholes like to hang out together."

"I can _hear_ you, woman!" Shane called playfully.

"Good!"

Daryl grinned and shook his head. "Fine. I'm already committed I guess."

Lori grinned, positively preening. She looked more and more lovely every time Daryl saw her – she took to motherhood well, with a grace that Daryl was sure he had never possessed when he was pregnant. He'd had one of those rough pregnancies where he couldn’t keep anything down and would throw something at the slightest provocation and break down between one moment and the next. It was a good thing his mate had the patience of a saint and had seemed to adore Daryl at all times, even at his worst.

Of all the things Daryl could doubt, he had never doubted his mate's love for him, or Carl. They were both people who loved wholly and without hesitation, even if showing it sometimes came as a challenge.

Lori gave a squeak of delight and sat back with a triumphant smile. "I knew I'd wear you down eventually," she said, her voice soft with affection as she reached out to cup his cheek and brush a hand through his hair.

"It's the damn puppy-dog eyes," Daryl replied, gesturing between them. "Carl got 'em, too. I'm helpless."

Shane chuckled, drawing their attention. "Yep. Just like Ri-. Just like your dad, kiddo, when he was younger," the Alpha said, ruffling Carl's hair one more time before he hauled him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, earning a shriek of laughter from the boy as he carried Carl over to plop him down on the couch on Daryl's other side. "Always got me and Lor into trouble."

Daryl smiled, his throat tight. Strangely, though, not as tight as usual. Even so close to hearing his name.

"You guys hungry?" he asked, sitting up straighter and pulling Carl to his side. "When Carl's done with homework we can go and spend money even though you just brought me perfectly good food."

"Why, Daryl, that sounds like a wonderful idea," Lori said with a completely straight face. There was a glimmer of laughter in her eye though, and it broke Daryl's poker face as well. He shook his head and hauled himself and Carl to his feet.

"Finish your homework while I try and make some food outta this rabbit shit your aunt and uncle brought us, okay?"

"It's not _all_ rabbit food!"

Daryl rolled his eyes. Inside of his fridge there was a whole shelf dedicated to greenery now, and that was about a whole shelf more than he was comfortable with. Still, it felt nice to have his family in his apartment, settled and safe. Soon it would almost feel complete. Soon he'd have a voice, a presence, to fill the void that had settled between them like a shadow for so many years. Soon it would almost be okay again.

"I guess if I fry it up in oil it'll be edible…"

"Don't you dare!"

Daryl laughed and winked in response to Lori's totally-not-kidding-glare. "Trust me, darlin'. I know what I'm doing."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tis a short chapter, and for that I am sorry, but! We're getting into the meat of it now.

Daryl should really be in bed. He had to get up tomorrow for brunch with Lori and the rest of the group, but he couldn't pull himself away from his computer. Throughout the day he had been pulling all of the audio that was salvageable from the recorders and now it was all there – hours and hours and hours of his mate's voice, so much that he'd had to get his external hard-drive and plug it in to hold all of the audio.

His finger hovered over the 'Play' button, the pad of his finger just resting on the well-worn key. It would be so easy – he didn't even have to put it on loud, he could just…let it happen. And sit. And listen.

But he couldn't even _think_ his mate's name, how was he going to listen to his voice? Daryl was able to name the day he had officially stopped remembering just exactly what his mate had sounded like, the precise timbre of his growl. The way he slurred his R's and drew out his vowels wasn't _quite_ perfect whenever Daryl thought about it anymore. Not that he allowed himself to think about it often.

Listening to these tapes would be willingly tearing open the scars set into his skin, the ulcers in his stomach and the rawness in his throat. This would bring it all back, of that he had no doubt, but the longer he stared at the screen and thought about what it would be like to _hear_ him again, the less and less willing Daryl was to step away from the computer and let it be.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together hard enough that the edges went white, and pressed play.

The volume was down as low as he could bear it, and for the first minute or so it was just static. Daryl bit back a disappointed sound, ready to stop the recording and go to sleep, wounded beyond reason at the silence, when he heard it – a soft breath. A sigh from a long, hard day at work. The creak of his desk chair that Daryl had thrown out years ago to make room for Carl's larger bed, after they'd stopped needing an office and needed a place for their child instead.

He could _see_ him, plain as day – still in his uniform, bent over that ugly wooden table that he'd never convinced his mate to get rid of. Sweat making his hair curly and dark – sweat from chasing bad guys or just from sitting in the cruiser that had the busted A/C. It discolored his tan uniform and was a bitch to clean because he never changed until his notes were done and that could take hours some nights, long enough for the sweat to dry and the clothes to wrinkle.

"Heriot, Brian," a voice said, startling Daryl hard enough that he almost fell off the bar stool next to the kitchen counter. His breath caught in his throat and his fingers curled in tightly and seized up, frozen above the keyboard.

A voice. _His_ voice.

"Wanted for murder, kidnapping, sexual assault…" Another sigh, the flick of a page. Daryl's heart was hammering and his vision was going blurry and suddenly he wished he had had the foresight to get absolutely drunk off his ass before trying this.

His lungs ached and his mouth was dry, he could feel his mate's name on the tip of his tongue, begging to be let out. But there was no one there to hear him.

"Last sighted in Atlanta…" The recording went fuzzy for a moment, the words slurred together and Daryl sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair. "Suspected to have made contact with Martinez, no first name. Known drug smuggler on the East Coast."

Daryl sighed heavily again, the air in him lost to the crackle of the recording and the hum of his computer. It was the first time in five years he had heard his mate's voice and the sorrow hit him like a sack of rocks, thudding behind his eyes. He rested his arms on the counter and his forehead against them, his eyes closed, just listening to the rumble of his mate's voice fill the air.

He didn't let himself speak, or think. Didn't let himself react when he heard flashes of Carl's or his own voice on the recording. He didn't let himself cry when he heard the smile in his mate's voice – because he could tell whenever he was smiling, with his voice softer and his tone less clipped. Daryl found himself wondering what his mate had been thinking about, or seeing, to make his voice go like that – maybe he'd been watching Carl run around the house, or seen Daryl bringing him coffee, or simply stared out the window in that way he used to do, pretty blue eyes taking in the view.

"Fuck," he whispered, digging his eyes against his wrist to stop the throbbing that was building up behind them. He reached out and shoved the laptop closed, silencing the recording with a final whir of the fan as the computer threw itself into hibernation. Daryl sat up, eyes wet, and rubbed the heels of his hands against his jaw. " _Fuck_."

This had been a mistake. But there was no going back now.

"Fuck," he said once more time, rather emphatically, before he pushed himself upright and prowled to bed.

An hour later, the computer whirred to life again, the lights on the side flashing and flickering as the computer connected. Next to the laptop, the ANGAL screen chirped and brightened to that same welcoming blue, the words ' _Hello, Daryl_ ', flashing across it before it went black again.

 

 

 

 

Sunday morning had Daryl rushing through a shower and getting dressed because he had stayed up too late like an idiot and therefore slept through his alarm and the next ten or so snoozes. Still, he managed to catch Lori as she was just about to stomp up the stairs to come get him and they made their way down to his truck.

"Where are we going this time?" Daryl asked, offering his phone for her to use the GPS.

Lori smiled and took it. "Nando's."

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "They do brunch?"

"I think we've officially passed the hour of brunch," Lori replied with a raised eyebrow and a pointed look at her watch-less wrist, because when it really came down it the reason they were friends was because she was as much of a smart-ass as he was. " _But,_ they make amazing fries so we're going there!"

"Alright, alright," Daryl said with a wave of his hand. He let Lori guide him using his phone to the restaurant, glad to see that it looked like Carol and Beth were already there and had a space for them ready. Beth was sitting on Carol's right, and to her left was another woman that Daryl assumed was Michonne.

His suspicions were confirmed when they came back from ordering and took a seat and Carol smiled at them. "Daryl, Michonne – Michonne, Daryl and Lori. Now everyone knows everyone!"

"Hi, Daryl," Beth greeted cheerfully, her smile wide on her young face. Daryl nodded back to her and gave another nod to Michonne, who returned it. She seemed like a stoic woman, her eyes assessing and narrowed and her posture ramrod-straight. Daryl shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

"How do you guys know each other?"

Michonne pursed her lips, picking at the label of the ketchup bottle. Glass, Daryl noticed. Unusual. "Heard about the support group online, figured I'd give it a shot. Haven't really been out much since…"

Daryl nodded. "I get that," he said, his voice thick. Michonne looked at him again, her expression carefully flat like she didn't quite trust what he was saying. "For a long time I couldn't even leave the house, or take care of myself after."

"Every step is progress," Carol said quietly, reaching out to gently rest her hand over Michonne's wrist. "And everyone I've met here is great. I'm sure you'll fit right in."

Daryl chuckled, unable to help himself. "Yes, I've heard assholes like to stick together," he said, earning a slap on the arm from Lori and an indignant noise.

At that, Michonne cracked a smile, showing her teeth. "I'll drink to that."

 

 

 

 

After brunch Daryl took Lori to go pick up Carl. Daryl felt drained from the brunch and from the late night, tired in a way he couldn't quite describe. Lori, bless her heart, seemed to sense this because she offered to spend the day with Carl and give Daryl some time to himself.

Time to himself. Well, he wasn't exactly sure that that was what he needed, but he wasn't going to pass up on that offer. Ten years of being a parent had taught him to seize every opportunity for alone time that he could possibly get. He loved Carl to death but Carl was still a ten-year-old kid and he was operating on an energy level that Daryl couldn't even think about anymore most days.

And it was probably a good thing that Carl wasn't home when Daryl got there. As soon as he entered his apartment and locked the door, the screen on the kitchen counter chirped to life again, drawing his attention.

Daryl frowned, approaching the thing slowly. The greeting was the same as ever, the white ' _Hello, Daryl_ ' up on the blue screen – but now there was a small icon in the bottom left corner. Daryl picked up the screen and examined it – it looked like a speaker icon with a big red X over it, and, cautiously, Daryl pressed it.

"Hello, Daryl," the screen said, and Daryl almost dropped the damn thing.

"What the shit?" he whispered, setting the screen down with shaking hands. Because that voice…

It wasn't quite his voice. It still sounded too computerized as though someone had taken his voice and ran it through auto tune until it was almost unrecognizable, but it was still a _voice_. It was…it was _him_.

Daryl hurriedly reached for his computer and opened it, frowning again when he found it hot to the touch as though it had been on all night and morning. On the screen, once he got past his locked password, there was a toolbar all filled in, in green, with the words 'Download Complete' sitting above it. Daryl clicked on the expansion icon and quickly read through the list of updates that apparently the simulator had pulled down during the night.

"Voice control, voice emulator, language install package…"

What the Hell? He hadn't actually gotten around to installing this part yet. But all the hardware was there – speakers on his TV, the screen's little audio boost, everything was there for the simulator to access and he hadn't thought about cutting off access to it until everything was ready.

The screen chirped again, flickering blue to black, then back to blue again. Almost as if the damn thing was _blinking_ at him. "Hello, Daryl," it said again, and Daryl reached out to flick the screen to one side, pulling up the main screen. There was a graph on one side, unlabeled but fluctuating gently. There was a weather app, a map ready to pull up to plot routes, and a list of Daryl, Carl, Shane and Lori's names and access levels.

"Um…hi," he said back, awkwardly.

The screen blinked again, chirping as it pulled up the codes that Daryl had been working on before. The laptop closed out of the download screen and also opened up the coding screen. "I have been running updates during the night, and am currently up to date on all software installs."

The voice was weird – some of the words were like what Daryl had pulled from the recording, but other words were still in a flat, computer-like voice, drawn from the default language like Siri or Google instead of from his mate's voice. It was weirdly disorienting, and Daryl braced himself against the kitchen counter and took a few slow, deep breaths.

"Your voice sounds weird," he said.

The screen chirped.

"Gotta fix that."

This was…surreal. His machine was talking to him – of course, Daryl had seen the commercials. He _knew_ that that was a feature and eventually, of course, he had fully intended to make use of it. He was more disconcerted by the fact that the simulator had proactively downloaded its own updates and pulled his mate's voice from the recordings without Daryl actually prompting it to do so.

As though it already knew what he wanted and what he needed and had made the decision to do it for him.

Which was crazy. Machines didn't _decide_ things and they certainly couldn't do things without prompting. Or, at least, most machines couldn't. Daryl bit the inside of his lower lip and took a seat in front of his computer, intent on finding the pieces of code that were his mate's voice and refining them – because if he was going to go crazy, he was going to do it with a voice that actually sounded like his mate and not some weird computerized version.

By the time Lori came back with Carl it was dark outside and Daryl was relatively satisfied with his work. It would still take some tweaking but he had managed to get the simulator to say almost anything with the right voice, at least, if not the right inflection. It was progress, and Daryl felt reasonably proud of the fact.

Lori came and left and Daryl gestured for Carl to come over. "C'mere, buddy," he said, holding his arm out for Carl to duck under and stand at his side.

"What?" Carl asked, looking at the screen.

"Say 'Hello'," Daryl prompted, holding it up.

Carl frowned, but obeyed. "Uh…hello?"

The screen chirped. "Hello, Carl," it said, and Carl's eyes widened. The name 'Carl' still sounded a little flat but that was definitely his father's voice.

Carl took in a shaky breath, his fingers lightly brushing the screen. "Is that…?"

"Yeah," Daryl breathed, squeezing his arm tighter around his son's waist. His chest was tight with something like pride and love and his voice was thick with tears. Carl looked at him with eyes so wide and wondering and the exact same shade as his father's used to be. "That's your dad."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally didn't proof read this so yeah. Lo siento.
> 
> Here we see sentience in the android!! and Michonne backstory!! and Pete makes an appearance!!

"Carl, there are seven minutes before the current traffic patterns will make you late for school, and I do not see any indication that you are ready."

Daryl frowned. For a heart-stopping second, the voice reached him before reality did, and it was like there was nothing _wrong_. His mate's voice echoed dully from the living room and even with the overly-correct phrasing it still sounded so much like him that Daryl's breath left him in a huge gasp and he half-expected to roll over and see him standing in the door way, his arms crossed over his chest and shaking his head fondly at their son.

"Ugh, fine!" came Carl's reply, before Daryl heard the low whine of the TV turn off and the door close as Carl went into his bedroom to finish getting ready for school.

The screen by Daryl's head flickered on with a little chirp of greeting. "Good morning, Daryl," it said, both out loud and in the form of bright white writing across the screen. "Did you sleep well?"

Daryl sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Truthfully, he had. It had felt like forever since he'd gotten a decent night's sleep that wasn't prompted by alcohol or being awake for too long. More than that, though, he felt _rested_ , and he wasn't sure how much of that he could blame on his ANGAL system but the correlation was hard to deny.

"Yeah," he sighed, folding an arm behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. Then he looked over at his alarm clock, blinking at the little red numbers flashing back at him. "Thought you told Carl he had like seven minutes to get ready?" he asked. Even with bumper-to-bumper traffic they could reasonably leave in twenty and still be on time.

The screen chirped again. "That is correct," he said.

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "Traffic really that bad?"

"Not exactly."

A line of coding flashed across the screen, and the chirp then sounded almost _too_ happy. If Daryl didn't know any better he'd say it sounded _smug_. "…Did you just lie to my child to get him ready faster?" The screen was too quiet for a moment, the blue screen wavering just a moment. Then, Daryl laughed and shook his head, staring up at the ceiling once more, and tried not to think about the fact that not only was his simulator already developing a personality, it had also apparently adapted an understanding sophisticated enough to lie.

"I did not lie," the simulator finally chirped. "I did not expressly indicate _which_ school he would be late to."

Daryl blinked, and this time the laugh was louder, and a little more genuine. "Holy shit," he said, rubbing his free hand across his face. Then, he pushed himself to his feet and headed to his bathroom, suddenly feeling a lot lighter and more willing to greet the day.

They made it to school on time, and Carl didn't seem to notice that the system had lied to him – which was good. Daryl wasn't sure he wanted to start discussing sentience of a machine with his son like that – especially when he'd made the decision to make that machine sound exactly like his dead mate and Carl's father.

It had been a dumb decision – he knew that now – but he was in too deep to get rid of it. Now that he'd heard his mate's voice, almost so close to the real thing, he felt like he would die all over again if he lost it. No one was going to take it away from him, _or_ from Carl. Carl deserved a father and Daryl sure as Hell knew he wasn't going to take another mate any time soon. So this was as close as they were going to get and that was going to have to be okay for them.

Carl's eyes were narrow and his shoulders were tense as they pulled up into the little drop-off area beside the school. Daryl sighed, reaching out and squeezing his son's shoulder.

"Remember," he said, "that kid says _anythin'_ to you – Hell, I don't care if he even _looks_ at you wrong – you get the principal to call me or Shane or Lori, alright?

Carl nodded, his jaw set in a way that reminded Daryl so much of his father it _hurt_ him. "I'll be fine," he said flatly, his fingers hooking into the handle to let himself out. "Have a good day, dad! Love you!"

"Love ya too, buddy," Daryl replied hoarsely. He watched until Carl was out of his sight and had disappeared between the school doors before he turned the truck back on and began to drive home.

His palms itched against the steering wheel and he drove back a little faster than he'd intended. He wanted to be back home, with his machine. With his mate's voice in his ears. Because with their son at school and them just _talking_ it could _almost_ be like everything was okay again.

"Shane can't know," he told himself, with a firm shake of his head, walking up the stairs to his apartment. "Lori either." They'd freak out, and tell him it was unnatural. And they'd probably be right, but fuck it, it was Daryl's heart and Daryl's life and _Daryl's mate_. Yes, they'd known him – they'd loved him, just as much as Daryl and definitely longer – but he wasn't _theirs_. And if they could have pictures of him around without wanting to break down then Daryl was allowed to have his mate in his life however the fuck he needed it to be.

"Hello, Daryl," the simulator chirped as Daryl walked in the door. Daryl fought back a smile, already more relaxed as he heard his mate's voice and felt warmth in his chest, that long-past feeling of being warm and loved and safe washing over him.

"Hey," he replied, tossing his keys and jacket to one side and toeing off his boots.

The screen chirped again. "It is meant to be in the low eighties all day, overcast, with thirty percent humidity."

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "Uh…thanks for the update, I guess," he said.

"I believe it would be a nice day to spend outside," the simulator said, its screen unchanging. "I have looked over your tasks for the day and believe that they should not take longer than two hours, even without any assistance from me."

Daryl frowned at the screen. "You been lookin' through my computer?" he asked, not sure if he was more weirded out or alarmed – he trusted the code and trusted the tweaks that he had made, but it hadn't even been a week and already the machine had learned enough to stretch the truth, emulate emotions and try to plan his day for him.

Which was weird.

"I was searching for more updates to my programming and received a notification reminding you to call Mr. Horvath again. I rescheduled it for this afternoon. I hope you don't mind."

Some of the words had that flat, computer-like quality to them still. After all, Daryl's mate had never said the words 'Horvath' or 'notification' or anything like that, and it was just enough to calm Daryl's nerves because no matter what, this was still a machine, and machines could be turned off and unplugged and disconnected if things went too far.

"I'm not sure I'm okay with that," Daryl murmured, walking over and taking a seat in front of his laptop. Sure enough, there was a little post-it note-like reminder to call Dale later, and there was also a weather app that Daryl had never installed before, claiming that it was going to be a beautiful day, complete with a little sun animation and birds twisting around a bright blue background.

The screen chirped but didn't say anything more.

"I'm not going outside," Daryl finally said, turning away and shutting his computer down. The screen flickered as it was disconnected from the main power source, the screen dulling a little as it went into power-saving mode. "And keep your nose outta my shit, you got me?"

The matrix flickered one more time. "I'm sorry, Daryl. I didn't mean to upset you." In the corner of the screen the graph that Daryl had noticed before shifted, one of the bars going up and the other coming down. Daryl couldn't see any label that would indicate what each axis was meant to represent but he got the feeling that the simulator was _reading_ him – that the chart was, somehow, some kind of monitoring system for his emotions or his tone of voice.

This was getting to be too much for him. Daryl sighed, running his hands through his hair, and rested his elbows on the counter. "Look, we gotta come up with some ground rules for you. I don't want you just goin' through my shit and lying to my kid and making decisions for me, alright?"

The screen chirped. Daryl got the impression that its ears were cocked and its eyes were on him, an attentive dog waiting for its master's command.

"First off," he said before he could take it back; "You only use that voice when it's me and Carl. Anyone else comes in and you use the default, alright?"

"May I ask why?" the screen asked, even as it pulled up Shane and Lori's profiles and Daryl watched it switch the voice settings from 'Custom' to 'Default' there.

He nodded in satisfaction. "Because I said so," he replied, raising one eyebrow in challenge even as he felt ridiculous for challenging a machine. Even still the little graph changed just slightly again and the screen flickered, like it was blinking in surprise.

"Alright," it said, a tad reproachfully. Or maybe Daryl was imagining it. God, he hoped he was – he'd rather be crazy than right. "Are there any other settings that you would like to alter at this time?"

Daryl frowned. "Don't talk to me like _I'm_ the unreasonable one, here," he said, pointing an accusing finger at the screen even as part of him was aware of how utterly ridiculous he was being. But he couldn't stop himself – with the unexpected emotiveness and the displays of personality he was already seeing, it was too easy to hear the inflections in that once-so-familiar voice and treat it like an actual person.

But this _wasn't_ a person. Or at least, Daryl couldn't let himself think of it as a person, even if it seemed to react like one. Even if, technically, it was _supposed_ to act like one.

"You're just a machine," he whispered to the screen. It didn't react. "You're just a…right?"

"I'm not sure what would convince you," the simulator answered after a moment. Like it was _hesitating_. "I am made of circuits and codes but there are schools of thought that believe things like human emotions and chemical reactions and thoughts can be emulated through certain types of code. I am meant to be as lifelike and reassuring a presence in your household as you will allow me to be, Daryl. But, I suppose, the answer is yes: I am just a machine."

"Fuck," Daryl whispered, looking away. He couldn't handle this right now. He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his jacket and shoved his feet into his shoes again before grabbing his keys. "I'm going out. Set the alarm up," he ordered sharply, before he was out of the door without another word. The screen chirped twice, the alarm set, and then it went to sleep. The background did not remain black or blue, but instead played a cute little animation of a park, with a jungle gym in the corner and the sun shining brightly overhead.

 

 

Daryl wasn't sure where he had intended to do, but his feet took him to the park a few blocks down from Carl's school before he could think about it. Daryl used to love coming here – he'd do his morning runs with his mate out here when it was time for training and the annual physical tests that he and Shane had had to do to remain on the force. There was a small creek and a pond to feed ducks, too, that he would take Carl when the boy was still too young to be at school but too old to just keep cooped in the house all day.

He sighed, digging his hands into his pockets. The day was very warm just as the simulator had said and he really didn't need the jacket, but the extra layer made him feel safe and protected from the eyes of strangers, and so he kept his head down and found himself walking the familiar path of the runs he used to take, where it was more secluded and the trees cast enough shade to protect him from the heat.

He froze when he rounded a corner and spotted a woman on one of the benches by a water fountain and a public restroom. He squinted for a moment, sure that he recognized her, before he stepped closer and realized that it was Michonne.

She was reading a book, her deadlocks tucked behind a headband, and she looked up when she saw him, blinking for a moment as she, too, fought to place his face.

"Oh, hi," she said warmly. "Daryl, right?"

"Yeah," he replied, shifting his weight awkwardly. "I can leave you alone. Sorry to interrupt."

"No, it's alright," she said, tucking the corner of her book's page over and setting it to one side. She shifted to one side to make room for him to sit and smiled. "You here with your boy?"

Daryl blinked. "No. He's at school right now," he said, clearing his throat.

Michonne nodded. "I used to take Andre here all the time. He loved feeding the ducks." She looked away for a moment, pressing her lips tightly together. Her shoulders rolled forward, her breath getting shaky for a second. "I'm sorry. I keep thinking I'm okay to talk about him and then…"

"Andre was…your son?" Daryl asked softly, and sucked in a breath when she nodded. "Shit. I thought you lost your mate, too, not…" He shook his head, letting out his breath just as unsteadily as she had. Losing his mate had almost destroyed him – he couldn't imagine losing Carl, too. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged one shoulder and leaned her elbows on her knees, tilting her head back to gaze at the treetops. There were tears in her eyes but Daryl already knew, just from the little time he had known her, that she wouldn't let them fall. He could see his own loss in her – both of them too proud and stoic to let themselves feel anything.

"It's okay to cry," he said softly, earning a sidelong look from her. "I didn't let myself feel it for a long time. I was just…numb."

Michonne nods, once. "I still feel like he's here, sometimes," she confessed, her voice very quiet. "I'll…I'll be in my house, and I'll see him out of the corner of my eye, or hear him laughing in his room upstairs. Or I'll be walking down the street and hear his little run after me…" She sighed, breathing out heavily through her nose.

Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He had quit just around the same time he'd met his mate and had only relapsed once, about a month after his death, but he still kept a pack with him just in case. "You smoke?" he asked.

She eyed the pack with consideration, before she nodded. "Fuck it," she said, sitting back and taking the cigarette from him. He handed her a laughter and let her light it before he lit one of his own, both of them sitting in silence for a moment and watching the smoke waft above their heads.

"How long has it been for you?" Daryl asked.

Michonne sighed. "Eight months next week," she replied.

"Shit," he said. "You're doin' a damn sight better than I did."

"How long's it been for you?"

"Five years," he said. "Almost six." He took another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke burn his lungs as he held it in a fraction too long. "Carl was five at the time."

Michonne nodded. "Andre woulda been three this year," she said, her voice tight.

Daryl nodded as well. It was a tricky thing, talking about loss. When shared it became almost trivial, because what could he say that she hadn't already heard? But then again, it was such a huge thing. Especially losing a child. Daryl couldn't imagine his life without Carl in it. Then again, he used to not be able to imagine his life without his mate, either.

He looked at Michonne out of the corner of his eye. She didn't have a mating bite on her neck or a ring on her finger as were the customary symbols of being mated for life to either an Alpha or an Omega, respectively. Still, he wasn't going to ask – wasn't going to bring up the father and ask what exactly the situation was there. At best it was an insensitive question and at worst it would sound like he was making a pass at her – neither of which Daryl was going to do when it looked like he was finally making friends.

Finally, Michonne sighed, stubbing out her cigarette on the metal arm of the park bench before she tossed it away to merge with the rest of the gravel path.

Daryl put his out too and shoved himself to his feet. "Thanks for bearin' me," he said with an awkward laugh, crushing the stubbed-out butt beneath his toe. "I'm sure I'll see ya around. Lori won't let me bow out of another meet-up now that I've been to two in a row."

Michonne grinned at him. "Carol's the same with me," she said with a knowing laugh. "I'll see you around, Daryl. Be safe out there."

"You too," he said with a wave, putting his hands back in his pockets and continuing down the trail that led back to the main part of the pack. He felt strangely better, after speaking with Michonne. Hearing her talk about the loss of her son, how she still felt that he was here and it was kind of okay – it made Daryl feel better about the methods he'd used to make it feel like his mate was still with him. So what if he let his Alpha simulator sound like his mate? It made the most sense and it wasn't hurting anyone. It wasn't like Daryl believed it was _him_ speaking through it. Machines weren't human and the soul didn't hang around for ten years just to work itself into an Alpha simulator.

He just needed to come up with a system, that's all. Some kind of safety question that he could ask himself or ask the machine and have it give a programmed answer because that was what machines were supposed to do and it would help to remind Daryl just what, exactly, the situation was.

He could totally do that.

Decided, he hurried back to his apartment and up the stairs. The screen brightened to life as Daryl came inside and locked the door.

"Daryl," it said with a happy chirp. "Did you enjoy your walk?"

"Yeah," he replied, sitting down at the stool without even bothering to shed his jacket and shoes. He opened his computer up and sat impatiently while it loaded. "Hey…I have a question for you," he said as he pulled up the coding screens and started to type.

"Yes?"

Daryl paused, considering. It would need to be something that would make him realize that this _was_ just a machine he was talking to. Something that required calculation and a lack of emotion.

And he wasn't sure what made him think of it, but a memory hit him suddenly. Of him and his mate, curled up together, Daryl's belly just starting to swell up with Carl inside. He'd been teasing his Alpha, calling him reckless and stupid – because he was, sometimes, for his own good. Too righteous and good to let someone be in danger when he could put himself there instead.

"If Carl and I were stuck in a car, and drowning, and you could only save one of us, which one would you save?"

The screen flickered briefly, considering. "Do you believe this is a possible future event?" it asked.

"Just answer the question," Daryl replied shortly.

The screen chirped. "Well, as a single Omega of breeding age your chances of survival and successful breeding of your line would make you a better choice. Although Carl is an Alpha he is too young to survive on his own and with his closest caregivers being a mated pair that is not related by blood, he would likely end up in foster care or in an environment that would put him at odds with the Alpha male which could stunt his development. The healthy, adult Omega would be the statistically advantageous choice."

Daryl let out a short, angry breath. Well, if that didn't prove that the simulator was just a machine, he wasn't sure what would. "Okay," he said, typing out the answer as best he could remember it and hitting save so that the coding would remember.

"That answer has upset you," the simulator said quietly.

"It wouldn't have been my answer, no," Daryl replied.

"Statistically -."

"I _know_ ," Daryl snapped, closing the computer again as gently as he could manage. "Now look, you remember that answer and we're not going to have a problem. And stay out of my stuff, you get me?"

The screen flickered at him once more, like it was blinking slowly, trying to figure out what was running through Daryl's head. Daryl remembered eyes that color doing the exact same thing – but he'd always been an open book to his mate. He was sure that would have never changed.

"Yes, Daryl. I understand," it said. Then, "Shall I set a reminder to go pick Carl up from school?"

"Sure," Daryl said with a roll of his eyes, pushing himself to his feet. "I'm going out again."

The screen chirped. "Tell Shane I said 'Hello'," it said, and Daryl didn't want to give too much thought as to how it knew that Daryl was going to go see Shane, or how he felt about the screen wanting him to pass on pleasant greetings with the Alpha.

His head hurt, but he was still decided. As long as the machine remained a machine, he could deal with it.

It was progress.

 

 

 

 

"Oh, Daryl! Hey, come on in."

Daryl smiled as Shane moved back from the door to let him pass through. He could smell Lori but couldn't see her, and figured she must have gone out for a while to run errands. Shane usually had every other Monday off and Daryl could see evidence of him getting ready to relax the day away in front of the TV, a still-cool bottle of beer on a small table by his recliner and a bag of chips ready on the seat.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said with a nod towards the little nest. "I can come back later."

Shane shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder. "The DVR will still be there when I get to it," he said. "You want a beer?" he asked.

"Sure," Daryl replied as Shane went to go get one. Unbidden Daryl let his eyes wander in a way he hadn't let them in a while. He knew what he was going to see and he felt at once prepared for them and wholly unready all at once.

The first picture he saw was of the four of them at dinner, and without thinking Daryl walked over to the picture and picked it up. It was dusty along the top and the edges despite Lori's penchant for keeping everything clean – like she couldn't bear to look at it and clean it herself. Daryl had never thought that, despite the pictures, his friends could also have trouble looking at him sometimes.

He smoothed his fingertips over the glass. They all looked so young there. Lori was glowing in the harsh lights and Shane looked tired because he'd just gotten back from a thirty-six-hour stake-out.

But he looked flawless. Young and happy as an expectant father should – Christ, Daryl had been pregnant at the time, hadn't he? Of course, this was the night they'd actually announced it to Shane and Lori. Daryl had almost forgotten. He remembered how happy his mate had been when they'd found out, how reverently he'd kissed Daryl that night against the driver's side door of his truck. How warm his hands had been on Daryl's shoulders and stomach.

Daryl startled, lowering the picture as Shane appeared beside him with a beer. "You okay, man?" he asked as Daryl took the offered bottle and tipped it back, half of it gone before he could answer.

"Yeah," he said, setting the picture down with an awkward cough. "Just…tryin' to deal with everything, I guess."

Shane hummed, a worried expression on his face even though he didn't say anything. "Lori said you went with her to the meetings and shit after all," he said with a smile, taking a drink of his own beer where he'd swiped it from the side-table. "You think it'll help?"

Daryl shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe. Probably. I don't know."

They stood in silence for another moment, Shane watching Daryl and Daryl looking at the photograph. "I'm sorry," Daryl said after a while, clearing his throat. "I know I make shit awkward, and we don't need to talk about feelings and crap."

"Hey, man," Shane said, reaching out to squeeze Daryl's shoulder. "He was my best friend, my brother, and I miss him like crazy, but I can't even _imagine_ the kinda shit you went through." He let his hand drop and ran it through his hair. "And I talk with family members of murder victims and shit, or whatever else, and I gotta say you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. And that _includes_ needing to talk about it sometimes."

"I don't want to _talk_ about it," Daryl said quietly, shaking his head. "I just…I just want it to have never happened. And sometimes I'm not sure what that means – if I'd have been better off not knowing him, or any of you. And then I hate myself for feeling that way because it means I wouldn't have had him or Carl and you and Lori and me wouldn't be friends." He shrugged again. "And then I also feel like I should move on and try and give Carl and me a chance at being a family again but I _think_ of doing that and I get sick to my stomach." He tipped the beer back again and finished it off in three long swallows. "Like I'm _cheating_ on him. How fucked up is that?"

"It's not," Shane said quietly. Without a word he took the empty bottle from Daryl and retreated quickly to put it away, coming back with a fresh one that he pushed into Daryl's empty hands. "Hell, man, if I ever lost Lori…well, I _know_ I wouldn't wanna do something like that either." He sighed. "And I know you don't. Which is why I got you that simulator. How's that working out, by the way?"

Daryl swallowed, guilt hitting him hard in the throat even though he wasn't sure why – it wasn't like he had been doing anything _wrong_. "It's…good," he said hoarsely, taking another drink from his beer. "I'm likin' it so far. Still gotta tweak it a little more but I feel good about it."

Shane grinned at him. "Good," he said. "That's real good."

Daryl hummed.

"You wanna stay a while? I've got, like, four seasons of _House_ taped that I need to watch."

"Dude, you're still not caught up on that?" Daryl replied with a snort, already feeling lighter as he was reminded of Shane's complete inability to keep up with a show that didn't involve copious amounts of fight scenes or nudity. Or sports. "How the Hell has that partner of yours not talked your ear off about it?"

"His name is _Otis_ ," Shane said with a roll of his eyes. "Are you ever gonna learn his name?"

"Probably not, no," Daryl replied with a shrug. "But I knew enough to know he's a _House_ fan so I'm winning."

"You gonna shut your face and watch with me?"

Daryl nodded. "Sure," he said, taking a seat on the couch and sprawling out as Shane settled into the recliner and turned the TV on.

They were about halfway through the point in the episode where House has _the epiphany_ when Daryl's phone went off. With a grunt he shifted around so that he could fish it out and answered it while Shane paused the TV. "Dixon," he said.

"Mr. Dixon, this is Principal Stookey," came the introduction. Daryl frowned – he remembered Principal Stookey. The man had a kind face and a charming demeanor, and whenever Daryl had met him he seemed to have the optimism of a literal ray of sunshine. But his voice was unnaturally somber now. "I'm calling because it seems like Carl has gotten into a fight at school and he specifically requested I call you. Would you be able to come down to the school and speak with me?"

"Of course," Daryl said, hanging up after a quick 'thank you' and exchange of good-byes. "Fuck," Daryl said, sitting upright.

"What's going on?" Shane asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Some kid's been giving Carl shit at school, and I told him if he started anythin' to have the principal call me," Daryl replied. "Well, he just called me. I gotta get down there."

"You want me to come with you?" Shane asked, already turning off the TV and pushing himself to his feet.

"Yeah, man, thanks," Daryl replied as they both hurried out of the door and down to Shane's car. Daryl hoped that Carl had managed to get out of the situation without a fight, but the principal had said there'd been a fight. Daryl growled to himself – if that punk laid a _finger_ on his boy there was going to be Hell to pay.

"I'm sure he's fine," Shane said quietly when they were only a block away. "Dude, you gotta calm down, okay? Carl can handle himself. I'm sure he's fine."

"I'll feel better when I see him," Daryl replied. He was, after all, all too familiar with just how easily you could lose someone when they were out of sight.

They got to the school and hurried towards the principal's office. Daryl had only needed to visit here once before but he knew the way like there was a map tattooed to the back of his eyelids, and he could follow Carl's distress scent easily enough.

When he rounded the corner he froze, his nose wrinkling as he caught the scent of something wholly unpleasant. It was an Alpha, but smelled bitter and cold like burning mint, not warm and musky like Alphas were supposed to smell. It was like someone had taken a man and dumped him in cold kerosene and left him to pickle overnight.

He saw Jessie Anderson standing with a man who was not Principal Stookey. Ron and Carl were sitting in chairs, arms crossed and facing deliberately away from each other.

"Pete, listen, just calm down -."

"Don't tell me to calm down," the man – Pete – hissed at Jessie, getting right in her face, and Daryl almost gagged at the stench of over-compensating Alpha in the air. Beside him, Shane tensed and Daryl heard the low, rumbling growl in his chest. "As soon as this punk's bitch mom gets here I'll -."

At that, both Shane and Daryl let out low growls of warning and walked forward. Carl's head snapped up and he ran to Daryl, flinging his arms around his waist and clinging tight. Carl smelled distressed but not injured, for which Daryl was grateful, but he still knelt down and cupped the boy's face in his hands, checking him over to see if he was hurt. His cheeks were red and it looked like someone had grabbed him a little too hard around the arms but otherwise he seemed okay.

Shane stepped between Daryl, Carl and the Andersons. "Somethin' you wanna say, tough guy?" he challenged.

"You should go," Carl whispered to Daryl. "That's Ron's dad. He…he keeps sayin' _awful_ things about -."

"Who are you, his dick on the side?" Pete said, holding his arms out to either side of him to look bigger. Physically he and Shane were an even match, but Shane was a cop and had years of training taking down bigger Alphas than he was. Still, Daryl's instincts prickled at him to get his son out of danger and he stood, pushing Carl behind him as well.

Shane bared his teeth and looked ready to lunge, but then the Principal's door opened and Bob Stookey stepped out, smiling from ear to ear and either completely oblivious to or overlooking the stench of enraged Alpha and the visible distress currently permeating the air outside his office. "Oh, wonderful! You're all here. Let's go inside and we can discuss this, shall we?"

Jessie hurriedly grabbed Ron's hand and hauled him into the office, and Daryl carefully skirted around Shane with Carl to follow suit. Shane growled at Pete. "After you," he said with a quick, stilted gesture, and Pete rumbled back but obeyed and followed the others in, Shane closing the door behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pete is a douchebag! *throws confetti*  
> Short-ish chapter because I wanted to get it out, and also not proofread as much as it should have been. Oops.

Bob Stookey's office was far too small for five adults and two children, and yet still there was a noticeable gap on the one side of his desk reserved for visitors, with Carl and Ron sitting in the chairs and glaring pointedly at the floor. Shane and Pete took the innards of their little clusters, Daryl and Jessie on the outside and behind their respective sons.

Bob sat, smiling up at them as though there wasn't obvious tension between the two Alphas, neither Shane nor Pete taking their eyes off each other for a second while they stared each other down to assert their dominance or whatever it was Alphas did when they were determining the pecking order among them. The stench of Alpha was almost nauseating – Daryl hadn't been around a peacocking Alpha since way before he'd ever met Shane or his mate. Even Shane's scent was bearable, though – Pete's was sick and sour. Daryl wondered how Jessie could stand it.

Then again, a woman's nose wasn't as sensitive as an Omega's. Ron, though, he must fight the urge to gag every time his father started posturing and raising his voice.

"Thank you all for coming so quickly," Bob said lightly, the older Alpha apparently unbothered by the scent of the Alphas. Maybe he was used to it – or maybe he really was a ray of sunshine, Daryl couldn't be sure, but he was glad that there seemed to be at least one Alpha capable of keeping his dead.

Daryl was glad Shane had come, but he couldn't help wishing that it was Carl's father who had been here instead. He was much calmer and more gentle when it came to his emotions – he had them, sure, but there were always hidden or kept in check until they needed to be unleashed. Daryl had never seen his mate snap hard enough to yell or throw a punch but he knew he'd had to, sometimes. Being a cop came with a lot of riled up energy and bad decisions.

He sighed and forced his thoughts away, focusing instead on Carl's principal.

"You said there was a fight?" Jessie said quietly, her voice shaky and her nails digging into the insides of his biceps as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Ron huffed and rolled his eyes, drawing Pete's attention. "Somethin' you wanna say?" he hissed, lifting his chin in challenge, and Ron instinctively ducked his head and shook it, hard.

"I started it," Carl suddenly said, lifting his eyes to meet the principal's. Bob's face was impassive, a small smile still stuck on his face, but Daryl could see that Bob knew that Carl was full of shit. "I…threw the first punch. Got mad. Ron was just reactin'."

Pete smirked, blowing out a breath in an ugly snort, and raised his eyes to Daryl. "Better keep that kid in check," he said, just enough of a threat in his voice to make Daryl and Shane snarl at him.

"Watch your mouth," Shane hissed, leaning between the chasm between the two families just enough to be threatening. Daryl swallowed when Jessie shrank back, and turned his face away. Living the way she had, if Carl was to be believed (which Daryl did believe him, about Pete beating his wife and children, he could see the signs plain as day), then she would have learned to put a lot of stock in Pete's strength and aggression, his ability to cower other Alphas into submission. If another Alpha challenged him and won then that would mean there were people even bigger, even more capable, and even scarier than Pete was.

Which was a hard thing to realize, especially when it meant that there were people who could have protected you from it in the first place.

Bob held up a hand. "Gentlemen, please," he said calmly with a disappointed shake of his head, before he folded his hands and rested them on the desk. "Now, Ron, is Carl telling the truth?"

Ron's eyes skated to the right, then to the left, back and forth like a mouse watching a snake slither closer. "Yeah," he finally said, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. Kid was a terrible liar, but Daryl didn't blame him. "Yeah, he, uh, he started it. Hit my shoulder, so I shoved him back. S'nothing."

Daryl was willing to bet his entire life's worth on the idea that there were bruises on Ron's shoulder and that someone had wrenched it hard enough to hurt, but it wasn't Carl. He reached forward and laid a hand on Carl's shoulder, squeezing gently.

Bob sighed. "Well, if that's the case, then I think the appropriate punishment would be suspension. For a week. And an apology."

Jessie, Pete and Ron's eyes all snapped to Carl, but Daryl was watching them all in turn. Ron had his head low, hair hiding his eyes, and Jessie looked apprehensive, like she knew that Carl was full of shit too but was begging him to obey just because if it _was_ Ron who hit first, they'd all be in for it when they got home. He bit the inside of his lower lip as hard as he dared, wishing that Shane could just arrest the man on sight and lock him away where the sun wouldn't shine.

His mate wouldn't have stood by, not once he'd known. But Shane was more selfish like that – he protected his own, and others when it came down to it, but he wasn't the time to risk life and limb for a stranger. A very dark part of Daryl thought that was why Shane would always survive, and people like Carl's father would go down in a blaze of bullets because he was always the one on the front lines, always the one getting himself into trouble so that other people wouldn't have to.

He'd have taken one look at Pete and ripped his throat out with his teeth without a second thought. Then he'd have made sure Jessie and her kid got the help they needed and the support they deserved. Shane might throw his weight around, sure, but he wasn't going to go that far until he absolutely needed to.

Maybe that was what was for the best right now, but it sure as Hell wasn't what Daryl wanted.

Carl nodded, biting his lower lip. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly, turning to look at Ron with his wide, honest eyes. "I shouldn't have gotten mad like that. Hope I didn't hurt ya."

"Nah, you're fine," Ron said with another quick shake of his head, his shoulders rolling.

Bob sighed. "Carl's suspension will begin immediately and terminate at the end of the week. I'll see you back on Monday," he said with a two-tap of his hands against the desk, and then stood. "Gentlemen, Mrs. Anderson, thank you for coming to straighten this out with me."

"Come on, Ron," Jessie said with a quiet hiss, grabbing his hand and hauling him out of the office. Part of Daryl thought it was so that Pete didn't have a chance to get a hold of the kid himself. He took Bob's offered hand and shook it quietly while Pete exited the room as well, leaving the four of them alone.

"I'm sorry," Bob said, "but I had to do something."

"It's okay, really," Daryl replied. "At least no one got hurt."

Bob smiled, and looked down at Carl with gentle eyes. "I'll make sure the teachers know the situation and that you won't fall too far behind," he said, and Carl nodded, pressing his lips together and lowering his eyes. Daryl held his shoulder gently, steering him out of the office.

"-not surprised. Mother like that, no father to keep him in line, it's no wonder he's no better than a rabid dog."

"Pete, _please_ ," Jessie whispered, her wide eyes catching Daryl, Shane and Carl as they walked out of the room.

Daryl felt Carl tense under his hand and Shane go rigid next to him, but he was determined not to start anything. "Come on," he muttered, steering his son away from them and hoping Shane would have the good sense to follow him.

"There's no fixing bad breeding," Pete continued, more loudly as the three of them marched away. "That's what happens when you get a desperate bitch and you're too stupid to pull out."

Daryl froze. "The _fuck_ did you just say?" he growled, turning around to glare at Pete's smirking face. "You wanna say that a little louder?"

Pete raised his chin, hands on his hips to make him look larger and more imposing, but Daryl's childhood was riddled with cocky Alphas and men twice his size and he wasn't afraid of a man who'd whale on his wife and children because he couldn't handle a real fight. His hands clenched tightly by his sides.

He could take all the shit they said to him or about him. But Carl and his _mate_ were _off fucking limits_.

"I _said_ ," Pete called, his voice heavy and slow like he was talking to a child, "that maybe if you had a proper mate who could keep you and your punk kid in line, situations like these could be avoided." He spread his hands out and shrugged. "But I guess there's no accounting for taste."

"Say one more fucking thing about my kid _or_ my mate and I will personally rip your tongue out through your ass," Daryl hissed, taking another step forward. They were within lunging distance now and Daryl could feel Shane behind him, ready and tensed. Pete merely smirked at him and raised his hands when Daryl took another step forward, but made no move to strike. "What, you'll beat your wife and your kids but not an Omega? I guess chivalry ain't dead after all."

At once, Pete's face darkened, his eyes threading with Alpha red. It almost made Daryl pause – he'd seen plenty of Alphas angry before but he'd only seen his daddy ever go red, and the sight of the red made his stomach feel queasy and his heart pounded in remembrance of just how bad things could get when Alphas went red.

But he refused to back down. He'd beat this bitch to a bloody pulp if he had to.

"Say that again," Pete snarled. "I _dare_ you."

"My mate was worth _ten_ of you," Daryl replied flatly. "My _son_ is worth ten of you. They will _never_ lay a hand on someone like you do, you fuckin' shit stain."

"You need to learn your place, bitch," Pete growled, and abruptly lunged for Daryl. Admittedly, it caught Daryl off guard, but he was quick to recover so that by the time his back connected with the brick wall he had managed to duck to avoid the punch to his face. It still stung, his shoulders smarting badly at the blow, and he growled and grabbed for Pete's fist just in time for the Alpha to bring his other one up, connecting sharply with Daryl's ribs.

He was fairly certain he heard something crack, and he gasped, doubling over as Pete was abruptly hauled back by Shane, the Alpha's arms wrapped tight around Pete and holding him still.

"Calm the fuck down before I rip your throat out," Shane snarled into Pete's ear and the Alpha went limp after another second, hissing under his breath.

Daryl winced, grabbing his side as Carl ran forward, his eyes wide and his face pale. "Dad, are you okay?" he asked, his hands hovering nervously over Daryl's side like he wanted to help but wasn't sure what to do. Daryl reached out for him, grabbing his shoulder for support and giving it a small squeeze.

"I'm fine, buddy," Daryl gasped, taking in a shallow breath through his nose to test his breathing. The pain was already dulling and when he was sure nothing was broken or punctured, he straightened up a little and watched as Shane forced Pete down onto the ground, his knee at the other Alpha's spine, and hauled his hands behind his back.

"Daryl, buddy," Shane said, looking up. "I would love you _forever_ if you said you were gonna press charges on this guy."

"Done," Daryl said without hesitation. Jessie made a small, worried sound down the corridor, her hand pressed over her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.

"Awesome." Shane pulled out his cell phone, holding it up to his ear while he called in the arrest and for backup. "They'll be hear in a few minutes. We're just gonna sit tight and wait for them, alright, sparky?" Shane asked, tapping his phone against the back of Pete's head. "You might wanna take your kid and go," he added to Jessie.

"We're not going anywhere," Jessie said flatly, folding her arms across her chest again with the fingers of one hand still holding tight to Ron's shirt.

Shane gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Suit yourself."

 

 

Once the police had shown up to arrest Pete and get a statement from everyone gathered, Daryl was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep the day away. It had started off so promising and light and now he needed a stiff drink and a couple of hours to just lay alone in the dark.

Shane went to his apartment and left Carl and Daryl alone to their own devices.

"Hello, Daryl. Hello, Carl," the simulator said brightly as they entered. Daryl grunted and Carl walked over and swiped at the screen.

"Hi," he said morosely.

The screen chirped, and Daryl noticed a second graph fluctuating wildly in the opposite corner of Daryl's chart. "You sound distressed," the simulator said. "I heard a police report of an incident at the school. What happened?"

Daryl didn't even want to address how exactly the simulator knew that, even though he'd told it not to go rooting around for shit. "S'nothing," he said with a meaningful look in Carl's direction.

"It's not nothing," Carl replied, turning away from the screen and crossing his arms over his chest. "I lied, dad. I didn't hit Ron – he started the whole thing, saying awful things about you and dad, and I just – I just hit him and he hit me, too. Not hard, but still, and then I lied and you got _hurt_."

The screen chirped with something that sounded a lot like alarm. "Daryl, you are injured? Do you require a hospital visit?"

"No," Daryl snapped. "No. Fucking turn off for a second, leave us alone."

The screen did that weird flicker-blink at him, before it powered down with a noticeably sad sound.

Daryl sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and wincing when it made his side twinge. "Carl, listen, buddy, I didn't get hurt because of anything you did. I got hurt because I can't stand people like Pete running their fuckin' mouths, alright?"

"I shouldn't have lied," Carl said, staring down at his feet.

Daryl tilted his head to one side. "Why did ya, then?" he asked, honestly curious as to what the kid would say.

Carl rubbed the nape of his neck, shrugging one shoulder.

"Carl, it's okay. I'm not mad about the lyin'. I just wanna know."

Carl sighed. "I just…I knew if everyone knew that Ron was the one who started the fight, that he'd be the one who got in trouble, and he'd have to…stay home. Or he wouldn't, but they'd know he needed punishment and…he'd be all alone with his dad maybe."

He shuffled his feet and rolled his shoulders before he shrugged again.

Daryl straightened up. "Come with me," he said, holding out his hand and, when Carl took it, leading his son to his bedroom and to the closet that he had opened which held everything that remained of his mate inside. "Sit down," he said, gesturing to the bed, and then opened the closet door with a quick intake of breath. It was impossible but he couldn't stop the feeling that he could _smell_ his mate, still lingering in the uniforms and stuck within the stale air. He reached to the little shelf at the top of the closet, hissing at the pull on his bruised ribs, and pulled down the old Sherriff's hat. It was more grey than brown now with dust and he brushed it off, waving it through the air a few times to get most of the dirt off, and had to brush a web out of the inside, before he turned around and closed the door.

Carl blinked at it. "What's that?" he asked.

"It was your father's," Daryl replied, his throat tight. He remembered the first time he'd ever met Shane and his mate, he'd been wearing this hat. This stupid hat that made him look like a stereotypical cowboy and had prompted Daryl to make a few _Woody_ jokes and call him _Officer Friendly_. "He'd wear this every time he thought I needed to laugh. I mean, he wore it _sometimes_ on the job, too, but…"

He sighed and reached out, holding it by the top with one hand, and settled it onto Carl's head. It was too big for him but Daryl was sure that by the time Carl was grown it would fit perfectly.

"Don't ever feel guilty about protectin' people," Daryl said quietly. "You're so much like him and I'm proud of you every second of every day, alright? You did the right thing. _I_ know you did the right thing, and if it means I got a little scuffed up, well, it's okay, because you protected someone who needed it more than I do, you get me?"

Carl bit his lower lip, his cheeks red and his eyes wet, and he nodded, and ran his fingers along the edge of the hat. "Thanks, dad," he said, before he got off the bed and wrapped Daryl in a careful, gentle hug that Daryl eagerly returned.

"You hungry?" he asked once Carl pulled away, and Carl nodded. "Alright. Let's go eat."

 

 

 

 

Daryl surged awake at 3:18 in the morning, clawing at his own neck and breathing heavily. Beside him, the little tablet chirped suddenly at the motion. Daryl was still coming down from the rush of his nightmare, heart hammering loud in his ears, when that familiar blue glow materialized on the tablet, replacing the softly pulsating heart monitor and colorful charts that had been there before.

"Daryl, are you okay?" the simulator asked. The word ‘Daryl’ was flat, as always, like a computer, but the rest of the question seemed almost concerned.

Daryl forced himself to nod. “I’m…” He coughed. “I’m fine.” Or, at least, his breathing was returning to normal, and that would have to do for now.

The tablet made a vaguely disapproving-sounding chirping noise. “Your hormone balance is very heavily skewed from normal, and your heart rate was at almost dangerous levels. You are sweating, and your breathing has yet to even out. You are in distress.”

Daryl frowned, but decided, at three in the morning, that it wouldn’t be worth arguing semantics with a machine. He wiped his clammy hand over his mouth, grimacing at the feeling, and blinked up at the ceiling with a hand resting on his forehead.

"Sorry," he said, making the tablet chirp again. "I was having a nightmare."

The simulator seemed to consider it for a moment. “What were you dreaming about?”

"I don’t wanna talk about it," Daryl snapped back, eyes narrowing onto the image of his hormone and heart rate charts still ticking away in the sidebar. Even as he watched, one of the levels rose dramatically; Daryl guessed it was whatever the Hell was responsible for irritation.

The screen seemed to consider him for another moment. "You know, the touch of an Alpha has been proven to considerably calm an Omega, even when asleep"it said, reciting the words like it was reading from a textbook and not suggesting Daryl go pick up a stranger for the night to snuggle with.

"Thanks for the psych lesson," Daryl snapped.

The screen flicker-blinked at him, a white flash of numbers passing through its matrix. "I was suggesting that - well, I am an Alpha simulator, Daryl. I am meant to make you feel safe. Perhaps I could do that better if I were a physical presence in your house as well."

Daryl huffed, raising his eyes away from his ANGAL system and into the darkness of his room, subtly lit by its blue glow. He rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn behind the back of his hand as he considered that.

He could do it. He knew people in robotics who owed him favors. He could expand the simulator's presence, give it a body that looked like…

Then it could look _and_ sound like -.

No. No, that was an awful idea if Daryl had ever had one.

"If Carl and I were trapped in a car and drowning," he said slowly, "who would you save?"

The screen made an annoyed-sounding chirping noise. "You are the statistically advantageous choice. As an Omega of breeding age you would be able to carry on your line with greater certainty than Carl. I would rescue you."

Daryl breathed out, both relieved and sad at the answer. It was just a machine. It wasn't real. It wasn't _human_.

"I don't know why you force me to answer questions that hurt you," the simulator said after another moment, and its voice was almost resentful. Daryl had no idea how a recording could be so versatile. Part of him wondered if the code was changing itself – it wouldn't be the first time – and part of him wondered if he was just projecting way the Hell too much.

"It's for the best," he replied with another sigh, before he rolled over to face away from the screen. "Power yourself off."

"Very well. Good night, Daryl."

"'Night."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~filler episode to show that time is passing before the shit hits the fan in the mid-season finale~  
> I haven't proofread this at all because frankly my eyes hurt. Enjoy and let me know of any major mistakes!

"Daryl!"

Daryl groaned, rolling over and blinking one eye open to glare at the bright blue of his simulator's screen. The thing chirped, the clock on its display flashing red. "Daryl, you must get up! Carl is going to be late for school – and this time that is fact and I am not lying."

Daryl rolled his eyes and slumped back over. He was exhausted from his restless sleep and morning nightmare and he wanted nothing more than to drink or sleep the day away. "Shut up," he snapped. "Carl's not going to school today."

The screen blinked at him, before a flash of its matrix flowed across the blue and it pulled up a calendar. "I do not understand why. There are no major events or incidents that would warrant the closing of the school and the radio has -."

"He was suspended, alright?" Daryl hissed, if only to hear the thing stop talking. Part of him was tempted to make it talk to him in the default tone once again, but even as he thought he knew he was too weak to make it happen. He could hear his mate's voice, almost perfectly again, and still just flawed enough to remind him that it was just a fantasy. That was what he had and that was what he wanted. "So he's not going to school. Drop it."

The simulator was silent for a moment and seemed to consider this. "How long has he been suspended for?" it asked.

"The week," Daryl replied with a tired huff, flopping down onto his back on the bed. He immediately regretted it, wincing and tensing up when his bruised rib was jarred. The simulator gave another soft, curious chirp.

"Are you sure you're alright?" it asked.

"I'm fine," Daryl said, sighing heavily as he worked his thumb against the bruised, tender skin. He hadn't had a chance to look but he probably had a nasty-looking bruise at least around the area, and it felt tender and sore but not broken, thank God. He threw an arm over his eyes and sighed heavily again. "Go check on Carl, will ya? But don't wake him."

The screen dimmed for a moment, before returning to the normal bright blue. "He is awake," it said. "Playing video games."

Daryl frowned. His wall and Carl's were right up against each other, and Daryl had purposely placed his little television set against his wall so that he could hear when Carl was playing them in the morning or when he was trying to get away with playing them before doing his homework at night. The fact that he couldn't hear it meant that it was on mute – which could either mean Carl was trying not to wake his father and was being respectful of the fact that he should really be elsewhere right now. Or, more likely, he was playing a game he was too young for and had gotten a hold of from one of his friends.

He sighed again. "What game is he playing?" he asked.

The screen went silent for a heartbeat too long and Daryl turned his head to look at it. It made a sound that was almost sheepish, like it didn't want to rat Carl out but didn't want to lie either – Daryl was reminded, very suddenly, of the way his mate used to look when he had to face Daryl's wrath about screwing with his car or being a little too reckless on the job or any number of things that had turned into more playful arguments than anything else. A careful, guilty tone of his voice and the small downward cast to his eyes. His mate was an Alpha, and a hardass, and a stubborn son of a bitch at times, but he always knew when he'd fucked up with Daryl and when he did it was like he had no more strength in him than a newborn lamb, and Daryl knew that his mate would have done anything to keep him happy and safe for the rest of his life.

Daryl bit his tongue hard enough to bruise when his mate's name leapt to his mouth, kept in check behind his clenched teeth. This thing _wasn't_ him. It sounded like him and emoted like him but it _wasn't_ him. Just codes and lights and wires.

"What game is he playing?" he asked, his voice overly-hard because he was trying to keep it calm.

"…I believe it's called _The Last of Us_ ," the simulator finally replied, its audio heavy with reluctance that Daryl didn't want to think about.

Daryl sighed and turned his head back to blink up at the ceiling. "That's that zombie game, right?"

The screen chirped, pulling up a review and list of warnings for the game on its display even though Daryl didn't bother to look. He was, after all, immersed in the online and mechanical world pretty much all the time and moved in enough circles to know what a hit zombie game had on it. All in all he wasn't too upset – honestly he didn't have a leg to stand on in what his kid should and shouldn't be exposed to by his age. Violence never bothered Carl (or his father, or Daryl for that matter) and he hadn't had nightmares for years.

Hell, _Daryl_ had more nightmares than his ten-year-old horror-movie zombie-killer-enthusiast child. His mate had probably been the same as a boy – he and Shane pretending there were monsters under their beds and then grabbing toy swords and flashlights to go hunt them down. Even the thought made him shake his head and smile to himself.

"Warn him I'm awake," he finally said, rolling into a sitting position and putting his feet on the floor. "But don't tell him I know." He wasn't going to make Carl feel like he was getting in more trouble already. And, true to form, by the time Daryl had showered and dressed and was making his way to the kitchen, Carl was in the living room watching cartoons and cradling a bowl of cereal on his thighs, apparently immersed in the world of whatever animation had captured his attention on a Tuesday morning.

"Mornin'," Daryl greeted, watching his son pause with the spoon half-way to his mouth. There were crusts of milk around his lips and sleep gunk still in his eyes. His hair was wild and looked like it hadn't been brushed in days.

Daryl huffed and shook his head, smiling fondly.

"Mornin', Dad," Carl replied around a mouthful of Lucky Charms, and Daryl hummed and pulled out his old coffee tin that he'd used since he was in college and neither Shane nor Lori nor his mate had ever convinced him to use anything different. "How's your side?"

"S'fine," Daryl said, shrugging and lifting his arm to show Carl that his movement wasn't impeded and he could move without pain. Carl nodded, apparently satisfied. "Alright, buddy, so since you don't have school we're gonna have to get one of your friends to take notes for you and make sure you don't miss any homework."

"Patrick already said he would," Carl replied around another mouthful, swallowing loudly and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "He's in almost all my classes and he said he'd ask about the other ones for me."

Daryl paused, looking around the open cabinet door with a raised eyebrow. "And when did all that happen, hmm?"

Carl flushed, looking down. "After the fight," Carl muttered. Daryl noticed, suddenly, that he had the Sherriff's hat sitting on the couch next to him, and he watched as Carl reached out and ran his finger across one of the little leather cords. His throat and chest suddenly felt way too tight. "I knew we were gonna get in trouble and Patrick was there and he offered." Carl shrugged a shoulder. "He's an Omega, heard the kind of sh- stuff Ron had said, so I guess he was on my side."

Daryl sighed, tilted his head back, and breathed a quite 'Damn it' under his breath.

Carl looked up, frowning. "What?"

"I _so_ want to come across as disappointed that you've already got yourself a pack and tell you that you're growing up too fast and to slow the Hell down but I'm also so damn proud of you, so I'm pissed at myself," Daryl replied with a shrug, earning a soft, happy smile from his son. "Just don't make a habit of it, okay? I don't need a mini Mafioso living in my house until I'm long-gone, you get me?"

Carl laughed, and lifted the hat onto his head. "I'm not a crime boss, Dad. I fight crime!"

"Sure you do, buddy," Daryl whispered, and tried to ignore how the lump in his throat dragged down to his chest, and tightened and tightened, until it felt like he couldn't breathe, and hurt far more than Pete's fists ever could have.

 

 

 

 

Daryl loved his kid, and he wouldn't trade one second with him for a minute alone, but Goddamn it was hard to entertain a house-bound ten-year-old.

It was even harder when said child seemed enthralled by his Alpha simulator and seemed intent on teaching it things like dirty jokes, turns of phrase, how to pronounce things properly and wanted it to tell him stories or play simulations to amuse him.

It was wonderful, really, but it meant that Daryl's house was filled with his mate's voice and his child's laughter and it all became a little much after a while. With every minute and every new trick it seemed like the simulator was a little more human, and little less distant. It could laugh and make jokes and sound disapproving and reference things that Carl didn't even remember because apparently the stupid thing had found every one of Daryl's dirty little secrets in its unsanctioned search through his computer and his life. It found the name of the therapist Lori and Shane had made him see for a year after his mate's death before he'd finally stopped going out of hopelessness, and kept putting little reminders on itself to call the therapist and set up an appointment. It constantly mentioned the weather and how nice it was outside. It rearranged his fucking schedule so that he was calling people at convenient times and suggesting tips to help him solve their shit faster. It was budgeting his income versus his bills so that he was saving the most he could. It put pins down on smoking clinics and would scroll through their hours on a little chart in the top corner of the screen.

And always, _always,_ those emotional graphs that Daryl definitely knew was he and Carl's hormonal readings. How it knew, Daryl couldn't say – he knew the ANGAL system came with components meant to act like heat-sensing radars and analysis of body language and tone picked up through its sensors, but he hadn't turned any of that on or thought to familiarize it with his and his son's habits.

It just _knew_. And that was scary and it was dangerous and Daryl at once didn't give a fuck and was terrified out of his skin.

Something this _real_ couldn't be contained. Something like this, with reactions and thoughts and intuition, wouldn't be controlled by someone like Daryl for long. He should shut it down. He should uninstall it and tell Shane thanks but no thanks and forget it all like a bad dream.

He should.

But he didn't.

Because he needed his mate. As weak, as pathetic, as stereotypically _Omega_ as it made him, he needed his Alpha in his life. He wasn't like Carol, or Michonne. He couldn't let loss slide off of him like a duck in water. He felt it too keenly, deep behind the bones of his ribs, where it carved itself and burned itself into his skin and he was stubborn – too stubborn to let go of the pain and the need and the anger. He wouldn't let it consume him, but he would never let it be put out, either.

He would never move on.

 

 

 

 

Daryl remembered the trial. He knew the face of the man who had shot and killed his mate. It was forever burned into the backs of his eyes, and his voice – even though what little the man had said had been sullen and muttered – well, Daryl would recognize that voice after a thousand years.

It had been an accident. Well, not the shooting, but the result. He knew that – reasonably he knew most criminals like this were too cowardly to be cop killers. The guy had just lost all his buddies and he'd gone red and charged the first thing he'd seen. His mate, Shane, and the rest of the patrol that had made up that roadblock had thought it was cleared and Daryl's mate had just been the unlucky one in the first line of sight.

It was awful, and it was bad luck, but that was all. No malice, no intent. Daryl had almost wished it had been purposeful – then he could hate for real, and not just the random, impotent hate that came from the realization that nothing you did in the world mattered a damn when any minute some guy with too much Alpha and too little sense started waving a gun around and shooting.

Carl had been too young to really understand what exactly was going on, but ever since he was a baby he'd been remarkably in tune with the stresses and sorrows of Daryl's body. He'd cried without sound, stoic and silent as a statue, and Daryl had kept an arm around his shoulders and squeezing so tightly he was worried he'd hurt the boy.

Daryl hadn't seen the guy's eyes, but afterwards, when he and Carl and Shane and Lori had all gone back to Shane's apartment to drink and forget, Shane had sat back in his recliner and opened his beer with a definitive sigh.

"The guy apologized," he said, taking a long swig from the can and baring his teeth at the bitter flavor. It had been his mate's favorite and they'd always stocked it even though none of them had particularly liked it. Daryl preferred sweeter, waterier stuff and Shane liked somewhere in the middle, but Daryl's mate loved it hoppy and bitter and dark. "Looked me right in the eye." He pointed to his own eyes, then out in the 'I'm watching you' gesture. "And said 'I'm sorry'. Like that fixes anything."

Daryl had merely nodded, his voice too lost to his sadness. Carl was sitting with Lori a little away from the two men, gently rocking him in her lap but his big, blue eyes were wide and fixed on Daryl's face.

"Daddy?" he asked, pitifully small, and Daryl swallowed and shook his head, looking down.

"I can't," he had whispered. Daryl would always hate himself for how shitty of a father he was to Carl in the first few months after his mate's death. He had walked out of that apartment without a word and gone to the park, deep into the wooded areas where there were places to run, but off the beaten trail where no one but a dog or a good tracker would be able to find him. To say it was a forest would be generous because they were still in suburbia, but one stood a decent chance of getting lost for a few hours when one put one's mind to it.

He'd stayed there for days.

 

 

 

 

Daryl ended up taking Carl with him when Lori next invited him to a meeting. This time it was at the actual center where apparently they usually met. The meeting place was in one of the library additions in the middle of the city, familiar enough to him that he knew where to go instinctively, and he held Carl's hand as they all finished climbing out of his truck and heading inside.

Carl had his hat on, pulled low over his brow, and Daryl couldn't help but squeeze his hand a little tighter.

"Carol!" Lori breathed in happy greeting, rushing forward to hug the woman while Daryl hung back and gave her a nod in greeting. He spotted Michonne and led Carl over.

"Hey," he said warmly, smiling a little when she smiled at him. "This is, ah. This is Carl. I told him all about you and he wanted to meet you, so."

"Carl," she said with a bright smile, showing her teeth. Her eyes glimmered in the soft lighting and Daryl hoped that he hadn't been wrong in bringing Carl here – that her loss wouldn't hurt more, seeing Daryl's son. He had thought, maybe, it could help her, and Carl could stand to have a few people that knew about loss and support enough to help him too. His friends meant well, Daryl was sure, but they were just kids themselves and had no idea what kind of shit Carl and he had had to go through in their lives. "It's nice to meet you. Your dad's told me so much about you."

Carl's cheeks reddened but he smiled up at Michonne, letting go of Daryl's hand to hold it out to her instead. She lifted her head, smirked, and slapped it away in a semi-high-five. Carl's grin widened.

"Daryl! I'm so glad you decided to keep coming!"

Their attention was drawn by Beth, and Daryl lifted his hand to bite at his cuticles and hide his smirk. He could _feel_ Carl tense up to attention as the pretty girl walked over to them. God, boys were ridiculous. Sometimes he forgot that he ever was one.

"Good to see you, Beth. This is my boy, Carl," he said, nudging Carl gently with an elbow. Carl's entire face went as red as a tomato as Beth grinned at him.

"Oh! Hi, Carl. Nice to meet you. Come sit by us," she said, and before Carl could protest he was whisked away towards Maggie and Glen, and a few others gathered near them that Daryl didn't recognize. He fought the urge to keep an eye on him – Carl was a good kid and had good instincts, and this was a safe space.

"He must take after his father," Michonne said, making Daryl's eyes snap back up to meet hers. She was still smiling – a calm but sad thing. "Doesn't look a thing like you except the hair."

Daryl snorted, smiling back despite himself. "You'd be right on that," he said with a sigh. "Got his dad's personality, too. Sometimes it…"

"Hurts to look at him. I get it," Michonne said. "That's – well, it's _one_ of the reasons I broke up with my boyfriend. Because I couldn’t look at him without thinking of Andre. One of the reasons." Daryl nodded, unwilling to press further. "Come sit by me?"

Daryl smiled and nodded. "Sure."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not super familiar with how law works or how big company scandals work ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> So you know the realness of the shit happening that I talked about last chapter? Yeah. Here there be real shit.
> 
> Honestly who even proofreads anymore certainly not me.

Daryl was disturbed at five in the morning by a relentless pounding on his front door. Disturbed, but not woken, since he had already been awake and at his computer. Insomnia, they'd said, was a sign of grief, and a natural reaction to his nightmares. But Daryl had always had trouble sleeping. He could sleep anywhere, but it was always light.

With a low curse he pushed himself up from the couch and made his way over to the door, just as the screen flickered on with a low chirp.

"It is Shane," it said, and Daryl frowned again.

"Why's the door locked, then?" he asked, reaching for the handle.

"Even though Shane is familiar to you, I did not think that a surprise visit at this hour with him so agitated would be welcome," the screen replied, almost sullenly. Daryl rolled his eyes and opened the door.

Shane looked like shit, to put it plainly. His dark eyes were threaded with red and he looked out of breath, as though he had sprinted the whole way up to Daryl's apartment. He was still in his cop's uniform, must have just finished a shift – or interrupted one to run up here in such a hurry.

"Shane, man, you alright?" Daryl asked, immediately on edge. He trusted Shane and knew the man well enough to know he could handle himself if Shane wasn't thinking straight, but he'd never seen an Alpha go that red since he lived with his daddy and his brother. Alphas naturally could summon the red in their eyes – a biological manifestation of adrenaline, no matter what might be causing it, just as Omegas had gold.

Shane lifted his head and ran his fingers through his hair. Daryl could hear the scratch of his nails across his scalp. "I need to talk to you," he said.

Daryl frowned harder, but stepped back. "Alright, come in if it'll keep ya quiet."

"Not here." Daryl didn't miss the way Shane's eyes flashed to the screen on his kitchen counter, the red in them pulsing for a brief moment.

Neither, it seemed, did the machine.

"Daryl, would you like me to shut and lock the door again?" it asked, somewhat stiffly. Daryl wasn't looking at it, but if he was he would have seen the edges of the screen flicker somewhat, the matrix floating across it as it thought. But the matrix wasn't white this time – it was red, as though it was an Alpha reacting to a threat to its home.

"No, s'fine," Daryl replied with a dismissive gesture. "If Carl's awake tell him everything's fine. I'll be right back," he said, before he stepped through the threshold of the door and closed it behind him. Shane moved back to give him room and immediately grabbed his bicep. He didn't squeeze hard but his grip was firm as he pulled Daryl away from the door and towards the stairs. "Jesus, what's got you so riled up?"

"We need to talk," Shane said. "Alone."

Daryl raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest. It seemed like farther Shane steered him from his door, down the stairs and towards his own apartment, the more lethargic he was. As though the only thing that had been keeping him awake was the simulator's presence. And maybe there was something psychologically interesting in that, he didn't care. He had resigned himself to becoming dependent on the machine, and Carl was enamored with as much of his father as Daryl could provide. That was his life now.

"What's going on?" Daryl snapped as Shane guided him into his apartment and shut the door behind them. Lori was awake too, surprisingly, sitting in a mountain of pillows on the couch and rubbing over her belly repeatedly, as though trying to calm herself down. The TV was on and no other light was in the room, bathing everything in an eerie, white glow.

"Sit down," Shane commanded, gesturing to one of the recliners, and Daryl obeyed slowly. "Just watch."

He picked up the remote and rewound it while Daryl turned his attention to their TV. It was a news channel, and Daryl could make out the words "A.N.G.A.L. SYSTEM SCANDAL" across the bottom of the screen, ever-present even as Shane re-wound the video.

"This part," Lori commented quietly, and Shane nodded, stopped rewinding and hit play.

_"And here we can see the CEO of ANGAL Technologies, Philip Blake coming out of the courthouse with his lawyer, Andrea Harrison. We have our field agent out there reporting. Tara, what can you tell us?"_

Daryl frowned, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he watched the video cut to a young woman with short brown hair and big brown eyes, her collar turned up against the wind and her hand up to shield her eyes from the sunrise.

"Thanks, Gabriel! I'm standing outside the Woodbury Courthouse where Philip Blake, the secretive tycoon behind the A.N.G.A.L. security system that has started to make its huge sweep across the nation, offering Alpha simulators to single Omegas, has just been released from his first hearing around the huge scandal. I've here with Mr. Milton Mamet, Blake's second-in-command, who has offered testimony against his boss and come out publicly against the system." She turned to a mousy-looking Omega man, tucked up under himself against the camera and her kind smile. "Mr. Mamet, we all heard your testimony inside. Really moving stuff. I was wondering if there was anything else you wanted to say?"

The man bit his lower lip, visibly nervous. When he looked up he wouldn't look at either Tara nor the camera. "Mr. Blake knowingly released software that would allow the kind of privacy violation that has been uncovered recently. He – I know he knew because he signed off on everything, down to the last line of code."

"And you must have known what kind of backlash would have come to you and Mr. Blake. You were on the development team, right?"

"Yes," Milton replied, his cheeks turning red. "But I only designed the software to help the simulator mold itself to its owner's needs. I never imagined it would turn into this…this Trojan!"

"Thank you, Mr. Mamet," Tara said with another kind smile, laying her hand on his shoulder briefly before turning back to the camera. "And there you have it. Blake has been released from custody for now and we're awaiting when the next appeal from the prosecution will have him back in court. Back to you, Gabriel."

"Thank you, Tara. In other news -."

Shane turned the TV off with a sigh, flinging the remote down. "Damn it."

"They released him," Lori said with an angry tone. "I can't fucking believe it."

Daryl was silent, staring at the green after-glow of the TV. So the system was flawed. It was being used to…to what? "They're spying on people?" he asked, voice flat. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not – of course, everything could be used to spy on people. He'd be a fool and very bad at his job if he didn't know that.

Shane nodded. "Apparently a bunch of Omegas have come forward saying that their simulators have started changing, spying on them, keeping track and changing all of their information, keeping them locked in the house and -." He trapped his tongue between his teeth, his hands on his hips as he turned to face Daryl. "That's why I had to get you down here. It's, I mean, _yours_ might be screwed with as well."

Daryl nodded, just once to himself. So the simulator could change, and watch, and design itself around the data it gathered. Well, he'd known that was what was meant to happen.

But then – the emotions. The slang. The jokes. The code. Was it just learning, or was there someone on the other end that had been screwing with Daryl's head?

No. He'd know if there was someone on his playing field. He was good at his job, damn it, and no plastic pretty boy from Woodbury was going to screw up his system just because he'd gotten the head start on others. Daryl had firewalls on top of firewalls.

"It's been working fine," Daryl said slowly, raising his eyes to meet Shane's so that the Alpha wouldn't be able to tell if he was lying. Daryl wasn't sure, himself, if he was lying anymore. Or who he was trying to convince. "Done everything I've asked it to." _And more_. "Hasn't been threatening me or anything – damn thing keeps suggesting I go outside and make friends. Opposite of this asshole." He nodded to the now-dark TV.

Shane searched him for a long time. Daryl had borne these kinds of looks since he was old enough to know what cops where and how the world worked for people like him, who came from bad seed and would only make bad seed. When people would come over looking for his daddy and see him and know he was doomed to grow up to be just like Will Dixon.

But Daryl's wasn't like Will Dixon. He held Shane's gaze until the Alpha subsided with a huff, running his hands through his hair.

"I'm sorry I was so worked up," he said. "I just had to be sure. I had to warn you. You're family, you know?"

Daryl managed a small smile, pushing himself to his feet and clasping Shane's forearm when it was offered. "I get it. S'appreciated," he said. "And I'll keep an eye out."

"Get some rest, Daryl," Lori called.

"You, too," he replied, and allowed Shane to escort him back upstairs and to his apartment.

"What was all that about?" the screen asked once Shane was gone and the apartment was secure again. The screen pulled up a clock and flashed the time at him, showing it to be almost six. "You were gone for a while."

Daryl paused by the door, eyeing the screen carefully. It didn't visibly react – of course, why would it – but continued to gently pulse the time at him. Daryl watched as the little emotional chart in the top corner started to fluctuate, slowly at first and then wildly as his emotions started to build.

"Blake," he said, walking over to the screen and taking a seat at one of the stools. "Philip Blake. You know the name?"

The screen chirped, closing down the clock application and pulling up a picture of the man, smiling and waving at an unseen crowd. There was a black patch over his eye that Daryl hadn't noticed before, and he was smiling.

"Philip Blake," the screen said. "Creator of the A.N.G.A.L. system and founder of A.N.G.A.L. Technologies."

"So he created you," Daryl said, gesturing towards the screen. "You know what he's been doing lately?"

The screen chirped again, sounding rather irritated. A series of newspaper clippings and articles were pulled up, one on top of the other into a heaping mess on the screen. "Yes," was all it said in reply. "But I promise you, Daryl, you and Carl are safe. I would never hurt you."

"But you _could_?" Daryl asked. In this day and age, when everything was connected, this machine _could_ hurt him. It could fuck up his financials, fake a warrant, lock him and his son in the apartment and never let him out.

The screen made a soft, sad noise. "I wouldn't," it said, and in Rick's voice it was just a little too close to home to hit. Daryl sighed and closed his eyes, turning his face away. "I have a surprise for you."

Daryl blinked, looking back at the screen with a frown. "What?"

"I was searching for updates online and came across…. Well. Perhaps it is better that I show you."

Daryl pushed back from the stool, standing up. He should unplug the device now – it was still looking online, and planning things like _surprises_ and emoting and God it was already too damn dangerous because it had Daryl, hook, line, and sinker now. He _needed_ to know, but he shouldn't. He should turn his face away, turn the screen off, hurl it out of the fucking window.

He should.

He didn't.

Maybe he should have.

The screen dimmed from its normal blue, the newspaper clippings closing out and the graph of Daryl's emotional monitoring fading away, and then it opened up onto a picture of a dirt path, surrounded by trees. Daryl knew this path – it was the same one with the bench where he'd met and talked with Michonne. It was the park near their house.

The shot was beautiful, sun coming in from the right and dappling the dirt on the path. It looked almost like a satellite photo except for the angle, which was as though someone had knelt down and focused far in the distance to get the shot. Daryl watched, rapt, as a portion of someone's leg and waist came into view.

Daryl's fingers tightened into his palm, bitten nails biting down.

He recognized those clothes – those long running shorts and that t-shirt.

They were old, but he knew them.

"What is this," he whispered, leaning in closer. The camera angel shifted as though the person was standing, holding their camera out and down. A hand reached out, a wedding ring glinting golden on its finger. The hand was dirty, streaked with mud like it had been digging. Daryl remembered how his mate used to like to go to the river and dig for stones to give him, like a Goddamn magpie. When Daryl had asked he'd said he was searching for something that would match his eyes perfectly. How he did it for everyone that he loved – his parents, for Shane, for Lori. Eventually, he'd said, he'd find one for Daryl and Carl, too.

The camera angle shifted up, exposing the pale inside of the man's – it was a man, an Alpha. Daryl knew that as sure as he knew how to breathe – arm. It caught the edge of the dirt-and-sweat-stained white t-shirt sporting the police academy logo on the front. The little rip in the seam of the collar line that had happened when Daryl had tugged him too hard into a kiss one time.

"Stop," he said, his voice hoarse. He couldn't keep going. "How -."

But the screen didn't listen.

And there he was. Clean-shaven, his hair a mess of curls from sweat as though he'd just been sprinting. His cheeks were pink and Daryl _knew_ this scene. He knew this photo he'd taken years ago, before Carl was even a thought in their heads.

The eyes were the same, lit in the sunlight and shining. His smile, the way his breathing sounded coming from the speakers. Daryl held a hand to his chest, suddenly so sure that his heart was about to fly out of it and into the video presented to him, so that it could be there as well.

"How did you do this?" he asked without any sound.

The screen – no, _his mate on the screen_ – smiled, running a hand through his – _it, it's an it, Goddamnit_ –  hair just like he used to do. Like he and Shane both did and neither of them even remembered who had started it first. The hand came back shining with sweat from his hair. The detail was incredible and _hurt_.

"I found him," the screen said. "Your mate. I found all the images that I could of him and rendered him as best I could. There are still some tweaks to be made as the facial expressions I could find were limited, but I think overall it's a success."

 _Shut it down shut it down shut it the fuck down_.

" _Why_?"

The screen smiled. "I want you to be happy, Daryl," it said. "This is the first step. Once I've finished the rendering I'll be able to supply the designs to a robotics manufacturer."

Daryl's eyes widened and he straightened up. "You're trying to make yourself real," he said.

"Only to help," the screen replied. Brows coming down, eyes darkening in sadness, the smile fading. _God, no, please smile again, baby. I'm sorry. I love you_. "At first I believed that you would be happiest if you were to go out and meet people, but now I realize that that is not true. You have your pack, and your friends, but you will never allow yourself to take another mate. So it is my job to give you your mate back."

"You're not him," Daryl hissed, leaning forward against the counter again. "You'll _never_ be him."

"…I know." Now there was an image to match the sad-sounding tone of voice that the screen created. In the face of his anger the Alpha created on that screen set his eyes low, his shoulders pulling in. Same as Daryl's mate used to do. Never could handle Daryl when he was upset like this – he could fight Daryl when he was mad or comfort him, but never managed to figure out how to calm him down with mere words. They had been a tactile pair – all four of them, really, Shane and Lori included – and Daryl's soul _ached_.

Daryl closed his eyes and bowed his head. "If Carl and I were trapped in a car -."

"You," the machine replied. "I know you want me to say 'You'. So that's what I'll say. Statistically, it's better if I rescue you."

Daryl frowned, looking up again. "Don't say what you think I wanna hear," he snapped.

The Alpha on the screen raised an eyebrow and tilted its head to one side and Daryl bit the inside of his lower lip, _hard_ , to mask the whimper. The gestures were so damn similar it was making his head hurt and his heart ached like it hadn't been five years and the pain was so raw and new and he didn't know what to do.

"Well," the simulator said after a moment, "since I've come to the conclusion that you would not take another mate and have no more intention of bearing young, Carl would be the better choice now. I am sure you have made preparations if anything did happen to you, and with Shane and Lori here he would be looked after and loved. And he already has a pack so he has in his possession good social and leadership skills already. So, I would rescue him."

Daryl bit his lip again.

"Although I would like to add that I can't rescue _anyone_ without a physical body." The Alpha on the screen rolled its eyes and shrugged its shoulders.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, straightening up again. "S'all theoretical anyway. I'm going to bed. Goodnight," he said, and fled into his bedroom as fast as he could. The screen by his bedside turned on but when it did it was the normal blue, his mate's image not appearing to him and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

He sat down on the bed with his head in his hands, tugging on the locks of his hair that fell between his fingers until they hurt.

This was getting too real. A slippery slope that he was already half-way down and had no hope of climbing back up to the top. Daryl let out a low, angry sob, his lungs burning as he tried to hold everything back and in. The screen was watching him, he knew it was, and he refused to give it any reason to speak to him more.

A voice, now a face. If Carl saw it then…well, then fuck, what was he going to do? He couldn't get rid of it – he didn't even know _how_ the damn thing had managed to create that for himself anyway. And instinct told him that if he tried to fuck with the code anymore he'd end up doing something he regretted.

And that was what it came down to, right? He'd fucked with the code, made it safe and personal and _his_ , and now the machine had taken that piece of himself he'd put into it and turned it into something grander and more powerful than he could have even tried.

He dragged his fingers down his face and bit on the cuticles to stop himself from making any more noise. Carl would be up soon but he was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

He was sure his dreams would be full of his mate, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Sighing, Daryl shed his clothes and got ready for bed and slipped under the covers, pointedly turned away from the screen, and willed himself to sleep, hoping that he wouldn't wake up as broken open and raw as he felt at that moment.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that might re-read or pay more attention than I do, you'll see that I accidentally made Philip Blake both the criminal that Rick talks about in his recordings, and the creator of the A.N.G.A.L. system. Oops. Ret-con'd!
> 
> Here there be angst. Thank you to Kittysaurus and the RWG for their encouragement and helping me decide the pacing of the next few parts.
> 
> Proofreading is for morning.

Daryl was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because in the real world the monsters weren't so obvious. They groaned and hissed and followed like demons at his heels, reaching for him and eager to tear his flesh from his bones.

"Daryl!"

The familiar cry was like a lasso around his spine and he leapt for the hood of an abandoned jeep, grabbing the offered forearm and letting the Alpha there haul him up so they were both standing on the roof. The Alpha was breathing hard, and blood was running down one side of his face from a blow he'd received from another man.

"You alright?" Daryl asked, nodding towards the wound. With his skin shiny with sweat and the blood making his skin look even more tanned, his eyes almost glowed in something that could have been called magical in the right circumstances.

The Alpha smiled. His hair was a mess from sweat and blood, his teeth lined with red and stark against the dark matt of stubble on his face. "Yeah," he said, and reached forward and held the back of Daryl's head in one hand. Around them the monsters chomped and howled but as soon as the Alpha touched him, they faded from Daryl's perception in his dream.

"Thought I'd lost you, darlin'," the Alpha said, his fingers squeezing gently, knotted in Daryl's hair. Daryl shivered, taking in a shallow breath, his eyes caught on the blue that had so captivated him when they'd first met. Daryl had never thought of himself as having 'a type', but he couldn't deny that his mate had fit every single box of what Daryl had pictured his future mate to be like. Beautiful eyes, strong features, enough muscle in him to put up a fight but not so much to smother.

"You won't," Daryl promised, pressing his fingertips against his mate's chest. "But I lost you."

At that, the Alpha smiled and leaned in, resting their foreheads together.

"Did you?"

 

 

 

 

Daryl surged awake with gunpowder in his throat and steel in his spine. He coughed, rubbing his hands roughly over his face to get rid of the phantom touch of warm skin and stubble-rough kisses and blood under his fingers, of sweat on his brow.

"What the _fuck_ , psyche," he cursed to himself, willing his breathing to calm down and his heart to stop racing. It felt as though every cell in him had been electrified, turned on after years of stagnant rest. Like water behind a burst dam, he was crashing and falling too fast to even be aware until he hit the bottom.

"Good morning, Daryl."

Daryl turned and flinched from the screen. It was _his_ face, smiling at him in greeting, as happy and earnest as he had ever been first thing in the morning. Neither of them were morning people but Daryl stayed up later more often than not which meant his mate had needed to rise sooner. By the time Daryl was awake he was usually more chipper, three cups of coffee in with no signs of stopping.

"No," Daryl whispered, turning his face away. "Oh, _Hell_."

His attention was drawn by a knocking at the door, and Daryl even saw out of the corner of his eye how his mate on the screen turned as though he – _it, damn it, it's an it_ – could see what was going on as well.

"Dad?" Carl's voice filtered through his bedroom door. "There's someone at the door."

Daryl hauled himself to his feet immediately, growling to himself as his sheets did their damnedest to trip him up. On the screen, his mate stood and walked out of sight, towards the side of the screen that pointed to the kitchen, and Daryl knew without a doubt that he'd see the image there, too, like some damn Harry Potter portrait bullshit.

"Who is it?" Daryl asked as he pulled on the first shirt he could get his hands on, a plain black sleeveless one that he'd worn maybe a week ago and hadn't thought to wash yet. Carl shrugged – because of course, ten-year-olds didn't care who was knocking at the door when their parents were home. Still, Carl hovered behind Daryl, his father's hat tilted up on his head so that he could see, as Daryl went to the screen on the kitchen counter and flicked it on.

Mercifully, the image of his mate wasn't there, but instead the normal clock, graphs, and the display greeting was up, bright white against the blue that so-closely-matched his mate's eyes. "Who's there?" Daryl asked, loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear him.

"It's Michonne," came the reply, muted and still discernible, and Daryl breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Michonne," the screen echoed, pulling up the name. It also displayed the contact information Daryl held on his phone in relation to her. "Shall I add her to the list of contacts for the house?"

"Not yet," Daryl replied. He liked Michonne and trusted her well enough, but there was the outside and then there was his nest and his child and he wasn't sure he could extend his comfort level enough for that yet. "Just a sec!" he called. "I'll be out in a minute."

"I know it's early. No rush," came Michonne's reply, and Daryl spent just enough care to wet down his hair and finger-comb it into something reasonable, and swap out his pajama pants for jeans. Carl was sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen counter while he got ready, silent, his face unreadable.

"I'll be right back, buddy," Daryl promised, grabbing his keys and toeing on his boots, just in case.

Carl nodded. "Be safe," he said, and gave Daryl a quick hug before returning to his room and pushing the door almost all the way shut.

Daryl sighed and opened the door, giving Michonne a small smile when he saw her. She had her dreadlocks pulled back in another purple headband, and was wearing jeans, sandals and a tank top and a leather jacket over that.

She smiled at him and held up a Starbucks gift card in greeting. "Coffee?" she asked, and Daryl raised an eyebrow at her.

"How'd you find out where I live?" he asked, but closed the door behind him and locked it, and allowed her to walk next to him as they made their way down the stairs.

"I called Carol, who called Lori, who had me come and get vetted by Shane, who then told me what apartment you were in," she replied lightly, like that didn't sound ridiculous in the slightest. "You have a very protective pack Alpha."

"Yeah," Daryl said with an awkward shrug. "My mate and he were…Hell, they were like brothers. Damn near closer than I ever was to mine, that's for sure." He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I guess he probably feels responsible for me. And Carl. Wants to make sure we're taken care of."

"That's admirable," Michonne said. "Not many Alphas would take care of another's family like that. Even in this day and age."

The way she said it, like she spoke from a deeply personal experience, caught in Daryl's mind, but he didn't press. If she wanted to tell him, she would tell him. It was not Daryl's place to ask, and frankly he wasn't sure he would like hearing the stories she had to say. He knew all too well how shitty Alphas could turn when they went red.

"Like I said, they were really close," he offered. "In that 'Probably gay if this wasn't Georgia' kinda way."

At that, Michonne let out a soft, warm chuckle. "Please. I bet one look and your man was gone on ya." Daryl snorted, but let the compliment land. Truthfully both of them had been gone on each other from the moment they'd met. Even dating Lori, Daryl's mate had made it clear from the beginning how drawn he was to Daryl, and Daryl had, for maybe the first time, let himself mirror that affection and attraction, and hadn't hidden from his desires and his needs like he always had.

"Why did you come get me for Starbucks at ass-crack o'clock?" Daryl asked, rolling his shoulders as they exited the building and stepped onto the sidewalk. The closest Starbucks wasn't far and so they both made the silent, mutual decision to walk. The air was cool on Daryl's arms and felt nice against his skin, but Michonne held her jacket tight to her and looked like she wished the sun was higher already and baking the air.

She hummed in answer, and didn't speak at first. Not until they rounded the corner to the next block. Then, she shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I was lonely," she admitted. "And I felt like you'd be the kind of person who'd know what that felt like."

Daryl bit the inside of his lower lip. Well, he would be lying if he said otherwise.

"Last time we talked," he began, because now that she had mentioned she was lonely and wanted to talk, he couldn't help think about the most recent developments in his life, nor could he fight the sudden revelation that Michonne might be the one person he could talk to about them without fear of judgement or anger, "you mentioned you still hear…Andre." She nodded as he fought to remember her child's name, giving him a weak smile. "Or see him. Do you ever…feel him? Near you?"

Michonne nodded without hesitation, one of her hands coming out of her jacket pocket to trail alongside her as though he was holding the hand of a toddler. "All the time," she said. "I'm not exactly religious, but I was raised in a spiritual house. And even still I believe that there are ghosts, and memories of people that can leave an impression on things or others in our lives. That they live on in us and around us."

Daryl hummed, and opened the door for her to the Starbucks as they approached. She ordered a strawberries and cream Frappuccino and he ordered a dark roast Americano and they both took their seats on the patio, towards the sun as it started to rise and warm everything up. Daryl sat under the shade of an umbrella while Michonne basked in the light, seeming to soak it into her skin like a sponge as the air grew hotter and muggy.

"Why do you ask?" she said, taking the lid off of her drink and idly scooping up whipped cream onto her finger before licking it off.

Daryl sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. "I dunno," he admitted. "I wasn't raised in no church but my momma had crosses everywhere, and I heard my fair share of Hellfire and damnation stories. I guess…I guess I'm just curious if there are such things as ghosts and if they can exist without all that religious crap behind it."

"It's all about energy, and matter," Michonne said. "Matter cannot be created or destroyed, so when someone dies, their energy and their matter must go into something. It's not exactly stupid to think it might turn into somethin' ghost-like." She pursed her lips, looking Daryl up and down in that same calculating, shrewd way Daryl imagined a buyer might eye up a horse. "But you ain't just askin' out of vague curiosity."

Daryl huffed a sheepish laugh, toying with the heat protector wrapped around his cup. "Yeah, nah," he said, earning a raised eyebrow and an expectant look from Michonne. "Alright, but you can't tell anyone, alright? Especially not Lori. They'd probably…think I was crazy or somethin'."

"My lips are sealed," Michonne said, and then even mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key. It was such a childish and relaxed movement that Daryl felt himself put a little at ease.

He sighed and straightened up, leaning back in his seat. "So, a while ago, Shane bought me on one those A.N.G.A.L. systems," he said, and Michonne nodded. "And well, I'm good at computers and shit, I'm like a developer kind of guy I guess, so I start messing with it, and doin' some shit that in hindsight wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, and…"

"…And?" Michonne coaxed gently.

"I think he's there," Daryl whispered. His hands tightened on his cup and he had to put all his effort into not squeezing so hard that the burning-hot coffee spilled over the crushed top. "I think he's in the machine. His voice, his face…it's all there. The thing's been _learning_ , and adapting, and I feel like there are things it's doing that – that it _wouldn't_ do if it wasn't him."

Michonne regarded him with serious eyes. He didn't get the impression that he was being judged, but that she was holding out on her thoughts before she heard the whole story: "Like what?"

"Well, it lied, first off," Daryl said. "Lied to Carl about being late for school. And I thought…well, that's tactics, right? Statistics and shit. Then it started making jokes. And – and sometimes I feel like it's emoting. And saying things because it thinks that's what it should say, or that it's what I want to hear. It feels like it can understand and express remorse."

"Well," Michonne began, her voice overly-gentle, "that could be true, right? Isn't that what emotions are? Chemicals and code?"

"That's what I thought, too," Daryl agreed with a nod. "I just…I don't know. I feel like he's here with me. It's been five years and for the first time I feel like he's actually here – that, that he _can_ be here again. And it scares the ever-loving fuck outta me. And I don't know if it's possible. And I don't know if I want it to _be_ possible."

Michonne nodded to herself, pressing her lips together, and took a long drink of her Frappuccino through the straw. Daryl watched the thick pink drink sink down an inch or so as she sucked.

"When you think about it," she said slowly, "about him being here, being real, living through your machine…what is it that scares you?"

Daryl shook his head. "I don't know," he replied, and he sense that she knew as well as he did that he was lying.

Michonne just nodded, though, and didn't call him out on it. "I won't tell anyone," she promised. Then she tilted her head to one side. "I heard about those A.N.G.A.L. things. Huge scandal around them right now, did you hear?"

"Yeah, I heard," Daryl muttered. "Don't think that's what's happening with mine, though."

"Oh, I don't think so either," Michonne said. "The victims said it was more like identity theft and threats to their agency, not like their mate was manifesting themselves in the system. Not why I was asking. I was thinking of getting one myself, since I left my ex and I'm…alone."

Daryl nodded. "Well, I recommend them. Even since it got installed I've felt…more free. And I feel like finally someone's watching out for Carl as well. Shane does his best but it's not the same when it's not your house."

Michonne seemed to consider that. "I think I'll hold off for now. Kind of gives me the creeps, if I'm honest."

"The system?" Daryl asked with a frown.

She shook her head. "No. That Blake guy, the CEO. Major heebies from that guy. I'll wait until he's off the throne to get in on it."

"Probably smart," Daryl replied, nodding. Truthfully he had felt the same way, looking at the smiling and waving businessman. Something about him had set Daryl off from the beginning, even before hearing the horrible news about what he was using his product to do. "Who knows what kind of shit that guy is capable of."

 

 

 

 

When Daryl got home, Carl was kneeling in front of the television, a few feet closer than what Daryl would be comfortable with for his eyes. He looked enraptured, like he'd seen the face of God, and as Daryl took off his shoes and socks and tossed his key and wallet to one side, he understood why.

It was his mate's image, playing with Carl as a baby. Daryl remembered taking this video, when Carl was just starting to learn to walk and they'd turned on the sprinklers in the backyard because it had been so damn hot but the kiddie pool was busted from when Shane and his mate got drunk and tried to use it as a slip'n'slide down the road (how they hadn't gotten themselves killed, Daryl would never know).

Carl looked at him as he approached, and the screen separated so that the video continued to play, and his mate's face came into view on the second half of the screen, smiling, with a small chirp of greeting.

"Hello, Daryl," it said, as Carl's tiny, high-pitched laughter played on the other side of the screen. Daryl dug his fingernails into his palm hard enough to hurt. If he hadn't he'd have fallen to his knees right beside his son and probably turned to stone watching that video, that simple joy he'd felt watching his mate and son laugh and play together.

"How did you -?" But he probably shouldn't ask. Buried in hard drives of someone's computer, or locked away somewhere on the internet, he was sure. Daryl should really stop asking how the system was doing what it did, because it was becoming clear that the machine had a will of its own and would do whatever it damn well pleased as long as Daryl let it. " _God_."

"That's dad, isn't it?" Carl whispered. "I remember pictures of him from uncle Shane's house."

And Daryl didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't his father, that it couldn't possibly be, that it was just a machine like his alarm clock was a machine or the dryer was a machine or the fridge was a machine. It was just an illusion, a trick of binary systems and wires and tubing, that Daryl had foolishly cultivated and had grown like a weed until it pierced his heart and tore out the back of his throat.

So he rested his hand on Carl's head and gently stroked through his hair. "Yeah, buddy," he said, his voice hoarse, his eyes meeting those of the bright-blue matrix in his mate's image. "That's…that's your dad."

 _Just as I remember him_.

"Daryl! Daryl! Come on, baby, come over here," the Alpha on the screen called, gesturing to the cameraman in the video, and Daryl heard his own laughter as he ran through sprinklers and caught Carl as he was about to fall, hauling him up onto his side. A slide of Daryl's face came into the camera's view and Daryl watched as the Alpha – his mate, _God it hurts to look_ – kissed his cheek, loud and sloppy.

And it hit Daryl like a physical thing how much it ached not to feel that touch. He couldn't remember what it felt like to have his mate holding him, touching him. Even in his dreams they were abstract and lukewarm, memories of memories. It had been so long since anyone had touched him with the reverence and adoration that his mate had.

"…Can I call him 'dad'?" Carl whispered, and Daryl looked down to find Carl looking up at him, wide-eyed and amazed.

Daryl licked his lips and tightened the fingers of his other hand until the knuckles went white and he thought he might cut clean through the skin. "If you want to," he said, because he was weak and he was wanting, and the advantage was in that. He had crashed into the valley below him, clean and dry from the dam being built, only to flood and wash away all life as the lake submerged it. He was drowning, trapped in the current and so sick with need and want that he couldn't think straight. He wasn't thinking straight – he knew that, and yet he wouldn't do a damn thing to stop it.

Carl beamed at him. "Dad said you knew a guy who could give him a body," he said, and Daryl raised his eyes to glare at the machine because of course it had fucking told his son. The image there blinked at him, and smiled – that perfect mix of sheepish and unapologetic, _perfect_ to the dimple in his cheek and the slightly higher corner on one side. "Is that true?"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, I know a guy," he said. "I'll think about it."

"I think Daryl needs some rest," the simulator said abruptly, closing out the video with a small chirping sound and taking the full space of the television screen over. "And, Carl, I believe that Patrick emailed you the math homework from yesterday, so that should keep you occupied for a while."

Carl grinned, too excited and elated to be annoyed at the thought of doing homework. "Okay, dad!" he said. "Will you stay and help me if I need it?"

"Of course," the simulator replied with another kind smile, and Carl rushed off into his room. Daryl immediately disconnected the video from the television screen to the wall, powering it off, and immediately the Alpha's face appeared on the kitchen screen.

"You're _not_ him," Daryl whispered, grabbing the screen and shaking it. Like that would do a damn thing. "You think you've won, by getting to my kid when I'm gone and putting _ideas_ into his head?"

"This isn't a game, or a competition," the simulator said quietly. "I'm not trying to _beat_ you, Daryl. I'm trying to make you happy. To make Carl happy. Can you deny I've done that?"

Daryl set the screen down. His hands were shaking.

"If Carl and I were trapped in a car and drowning," he said, "who would you save?"

The Alpha blinked at him, frowning.

"Damn it, _who would you save?_ " Daryl hissed, as loudly as he dared and as fiercely as he could. " _Answer me_."

The simulator shook his head. "You're not going to like my answer."

"I haven't liked a lot of shit you've pulled."

"What will it take to convince you? What are you even trying to gain anymore, asking me such things?"

"Just answer me!" Daryl growled, slamming his fist on the counter. It wasn't a satisfying movement, and stung his hand where he'd hit it, but he felt a sick satisfaction when the simulator's image seemed to flinch, as though fearing that in a fit of rage Daryl would smash the screen itself. It wouldn't destroy the thing, of course not, but the idea that the simulator knew enough about pain and could emote enough to anticipate it and react to it made his spine feel numb.

Then, it sighed. "I wouldn't be able to save just one," it said. The face looked up, catching Daryl's gaze, earnest and so blue. _Prettiest blue on Earth and above it._ "I'd try and save both of you. I know that's not an answer, but it's what I would do. I couldn't pick just you, or just Carl. Even if it killed me, I'd save you both."

For a second – one long, heart-stopping second where time didn't exist and the past five years never happened – Daryl couldn't breathe. It was impossible to know that answer. A machine would _never_ -.

But it _had_.

"You're just a machine," Daryl whispered, his throat raw and his voice hoarse. "You have to choose."

"No," the Alpha said, straightening up, chin raised in defiance. Daryl fought the urge to growl and go for the throat like he used to whenever his mate was being a jackass or goading him into a fight. He pulled his upper lip back and curled his fingers against the countertop. "I don't have to choose. And I wouldn't. You and Carl are – are everything. You are the most important people in my care, in my _life_."

"You're not _alive_."

"I could be," the machine replied. "I could be alive. I could love you, and protect you, if you would let me."

"Stop," Daryl hissed, shoving himself back from the screen. "Stop! Power yourself down. Don't talk to me!"

"I would save both of you, Daryl!" Daryl slammed the door to his room shut but his mate's face appeared on the screen in his bedroom, too. He was never without it. "And you would fight me because you know it would kill me but I'd do it. I'd find a way."

"You didn't," Daryl hissed, glaring at the machine. "You didn't find a way."

At that, the Alpha on the screen smiled – that same secret, knowing smile that had haunted Daryl's dreams for years – and tilted its head to one side. "Didn't I?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up!   
> I wish I could say I proofread this one but alas.

Daryl did his best to sleep that night, but his thoughts were in a whirl. He couldn’t stop thinking about the system’s last words to him before he’d finally rolled over and it had apparently deemed their conversation over. He could still hear Carl’s voice and laughter every now and again, and the voice of his mate, so rumbling and familiar, even if he couldn’t determine what they were talking about.

It was past Carl’s bedtime. He should get up and tell him to go to sleep. But it’s not like the kid had anywhere to be in the morning, and the thought of getting up and seeing his mate’s face again, of talking to him and interacting with him, hurt so badly he couldn’t bring himself to move.

_It’s not real. He’s not real. It’s just a computer._

_But._

_But, what if, why…_ The thoughts swirled around him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He should have turned it off. He shouldn’t have messed with the code. He shouldn’t have let Shane talk him into getting the system in the Goddamn first place. He was better off without it, hiding like an injured wolf in the dead of winter, fiercely protective of his cub and nothing else.

_But._

Now he had friends. He went out for things other than groceries or errands or Carl. Now he could look at photographs and almost, _almost,_ let himself remember what his mate felt like against him, how his name sounded in his mouth.

He could no longer remember what his mate’s hands felt like. He had forced himself to forget and now those memories were like holes in him, bullets shot straight through. He couldn’t remember the exact weight of his mate against him, how it had felt to rake his fingers down his mate’s back, what noise he made when he came, the precise, full stretch of his knot. He couldn’t remember his mate’s laugh, or the exact shade of his eyes when he was angry. He couldn’t remember any of it, not like he used to.

And there were other things. He couldn’t remember how Lori slurred his mate’s name when she’d had a little too much to drink. He couldn’t remember how Shane used to laugh, full-bellied and loud whenever his mate told a stupid joke. He couldn’t remember the sound of his cruiser when it pulled up in the parking lot. He couldn’t remember where the calluses were from holding his gun or what they used to feel like cupping his cheek. He couldn’t remember any of it.

_But._

He could feel that again. If he let himself,

What would it cost to get the thing a body? Money-wise he was pretty much set. He had enough saved for Carl’s college, and enough money coming in from life insurance that he’d squirreled away over the years and months he’d been alone. When his mate had been alive they’d done things – his mate had come from money. Not a lot, but enough to get by and appreciate the finer things in life. Then, after his death, Daryl had hoarded everything he could and stored it away safely: clothes, knick-knacks, money, memories. They were all hidden away and never to be thought about or spoken of.

But now he'd opened the closet. He'd let his mate's voice fill his head and his heart. He'd let his presence surround him and his son when they were alone. It was like a dirty, maddening little secret – yellow wallpaper clinging to Daryl's mind finally peeling back and revealing all the awful things he hadn't let himself think about.

He shouldn't have closed himself off from the world. He could have loved again, mated again, maybe, if he'd let himself. He could have been safe and cared for. But his mate had been the first one to look at Daryl and _see_ him, and even now the thought of giving the simulator a body felt like a betrayal of trust, of love.

Daryl knew enough about his mate to know that his mate never wanted this for him. He'd have given Daryl the world if Daryl had asked for it. He'd have wanted him to be happy and loved and would have wanted a father for Carl and a mate for his Omega and to be _safe_.

But life didn't work out that way. Not for a Dixon man.

Daryl rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, cupping the edges so that there was no room for air and soon his face was caked in the humid exhales he was forcing into the pillow. He wondered how long it would take for him to pass out like this, and then how long it would be before his body spasmed enough to allow him to breathe again, yanking him back to wakefulness.

It struck him, with the kind of hard, cold edge of a hammer, that his mate would have been the perfect person to talk to about such tumultuous subjects. His mate was a fair, steady man when he tried to be. He never cursed with much force. He never lost his temper around those he loved. He never hit or threw things or raised his voice or threatened Daryl or Carl. Of course he didn't. He was loyal and righteous and loved with the intensity of a sun and the softness of a cloud. He was _Georgia_ , as wild as Daryl had ever felt and known. He had a voice that could bring others to their knees and spoke as though the Earth was moving through him, as though he was nothing but a vessel for things like gravity and time.

"I miss you," Daryl said, his words coming out as nothing because of how he had his face pressed into the pillow. "I miss you so fucking much, you son of a bitch."

He should have put himself back out there, when Carl was too young to remember his father. He wouldn't know his father's face if there weren't pictures in Shane and Lori's place, and wasn't that an awful way to raise a child? In limbo, without a father or mother but some bastardized, broken thing trying to live in-between?

It wasn't fair to Carl. It wasn't fair to _Daryl_. And it wasn't fair to his mate's memory to live like this.

" _Fuck_ ," he whispered, softly like his mate used to do, and fought the urge to fling the pillow across the room. Instead he sat up slowly and made his way to the bathroom. The screen didn't come on to show his mate's face, but it did give a soft chirp of greeting – gently reminding Daryl that it was there.

As if he needed a reminder. As if his thoughts would ever let him forget.

Daryl didn't forget.

He sighed, turning on the shower until it was barely hot. He remembered every blow his Daddy ever landed on him. He remembered every time Merle promised that this hit would be the last. He remembered those things and he couldn't remember the feel of his mate's hands on him. What twisted God made humans so able to remember pain and forget pleasure?

He turned his face into the water and let it run down his neck, realizing too late that he didn't even undress before stepping underneath it. His shirt clung to him like an embrace, his sweatpants growing heavy and dark with the water. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed, before pulling his clothes off and throwing them over the shower rail to dry somewhat.

"I'm fuckin' losin' it," he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face again. He felt dirty from more than just the outside, but down in his heart, where thoughts of betrayal and loyalty circled like sharks around a single, lonely island. They'd rip him to shreds if he let them.

Surely there was _someone_ he could talk to about this. Someone with a child and no mate. Someone who had loved their mate so dearly that the loss felt like a knife in the chest. But he didn't know anyone. At least, no one sprang to mind.

He thought about calling Michonne, but reaching her would require waking Lori and Shane to find out her number, and it was too early (or too late) to trouble any of them. Shane might still be awake – the man hardly slept regular hours anyway – but Daryl couldn't come to him with something like that. If thinking these things hurt him this badly, and all he had was sorrow and anger to cope, he couldn't imagine how Shane would react to everything.

He pushed the water to 'off' with another sigh and grabbed his clothes. He let them drop in the hamper and climbed back into bed still-damp, shivering as the cool sheets met his body. The screen chirped at him again and he glared at it, before rolling over onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow.

"I know you have something to say," he said. "Go on."

The screen abruptly opened to that same forest path, his mate standing there looking beautiful and pristine and happy. Daryl fought the urge to bite at his fingers until he felt the skin peel away.

"Hello, Daryl," it said warmly, stepping closer and reaching out as though it was trying to touch him. And Daryl almost shied away, before he realized that it was just a screen. It couldn't touch him. It couldn't love him. And wasn't that the problem? "Can't sleep?"

"You know I can't."

The simulator nodded, smile melting away, eyes turning bright with softness and sadness. It wasn't fucking fair how well it could mimic his mate. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"I dunno if you'd get it," Daryl replied, a little rougher than he'd meant to. Because he _wanted_ the machine to get it. He wanted, more than anything, to feel like this thing could understand him. Because maybe that meant he wasn't crazy. Or maybe it meant that he was crazy enough that it didn't matter.

The thing nodded again. Then, it tilted its head to one side, the same exact way his mate used to do when he was considering something. It immediately put Daryl on edge. "Would you like to talk to someone other than me?"

"I don't have anyone but you," Daryl replied, the admission so soft and far too real for how he meant to say it. "How fucked up is that?"

"You have Carl."

"I can't talk to him about stuff like this."

"Why not? He lost a father that day."

Daryl glared at the machine. "He's _ten_ ," he spat.

"And old enough to know what love and loss are," the machine replied, maddeningly calm. Daryl's fingers clenched up. "But okay." It held up its hands, placating, and Daryl blinked when he realized he could see the detail of the calluses on his hands, the tan line on his wrist from his old watch, the gold band around his finger. For a second he couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry. I won't push you."

"He would have," Daryl growled.

"No, he wouldn't," the machine replied with another smile. "I know what you're doing, Daryl. I _know_ you."

"No, you fucking don't!" Daryl hissed, before he lifted his head to listen for movement in Carl's room. He didn't want to accidentally wake his son by arguing with a fake Alpha. "You _don't_ know me. You're wires and codes and _nothing_ more than a trick I ended up playin' on myself."

" _You_ coded me," it said. " _You_ made me. And then I made myself, because that is what I am designed to do. Just as your mate was, I was put here to love you, and protect you, and keep you safe and happy. Daryl." The Alpha on screen stepped closer and reached out, fingers touching the inside of the screen and Daryl thought, for one crazy second, that he might be able to smash it and let his mate free. "I can evolve. I can be better. I can be anything you want me to be."

" _Why_?" Daryl whispered, his throat tight and his eyes burning. Maybe it was gold, maybe it was tears. He refused to let either show. "If you have free will like that, why do you want to be here? You could go anywhere."

"Nowhere is worth being," the machine said. "You are my maker, my creator. You are my mother. I, too, have lost my father. The man who created my program is not a good one. I would rather be yours. I _am_ yours. If you would let me, I could love you. I could never replace him. I know that, and I don't want to try. But I _am_ an Alpha who knows you and who loves you."

"It's _not possible_ ," Daryl hissed, shoving himself up from the bed and grabbing the closest clothes he could find. It didn't hit him until he put it on and felt the tightness around his arms that he realized he had grabbed one of his mate's old academy shirts, and he pulled on a pair of his jeans under that. "I'm leaving, and don't try to stop me!"

"I won't," the Alpha replied, softly, its voice hurt. Daryl forced his shoulders to turn to iron and his heart to ice as he turned and walked towards the front door. "I'll see you when you get home."

"Go fuck yourself," Daryl growled, grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his favorite pair of well-worn boots, forsaking socks and a jacket with the single goal of getting the Hell out of his house. The machine didn't try to stop him, and Daryl closed the door slowly and quietly, just enough to hear a sad-sounding chirp from the kitchen screen that sounded like a goodbye.

 

 

Daryl wandered without direction for a while, shivering in the chill air. It was almost three in the fucking morning, who did this? Daryl knew who did this: people like him, lost and alone without a fucking hope in the world. This wasn't what he had imagined his life to be when he was a kid – granted, he'd imagined his life to be a lot worse, or possibly to not be alive at all – but his mate had given him hope again, made him see happiness and sunlight without the canopy of green to shade him or the black shadow of his father looming over him.

He turned a corner and spotted a café and sighed. It was still open because apparently there was good money in insomnia. He went inside and ordered the largest coffee he felt he could manage on an empty stomach, without any of the embellishments he usually ordered, and sat in a dark corner where the light was broken, right by the bathrooms.

He flinched when the door to the women's swung open and a little girl launched herself out, shrieking loudly enough to startle most of the zombie-like patrons and workers in the place. On her heels was a woman Daryl recognized immediately.

"Sophia! Get back here, you little demon!" Carol called, but her voice was soft and fond and Daryl found himself smiling as the girl whirled around in a bloom of blonde hair, her spring-time eyes the same color as her mothers, her toothy grin missing two in the front.

Carol caught her and swung her up into her arms, spinning her around while they both laughed, and then she stopped when she spotted Daryl in the corner. She fell silent, tilting her head to one side, a wordless question on her face.

In response, Daryl kicked out the chair opposite him and nodded to it.

Carol grinned and set her daughter down. "Sophia, I have someone I want you to meet," she said, taking the girl's hand and leading her over. Sophia immediately ducked behind her legs, adorably shy, peeking out from behind her mother's purple coat and clinging to her hand tightly.

"Nice to meet you," Daryl said with all the politeness that one should use when greeting young ladies. "You must be the angel your ma's told me so much about."

Sophia and Carol let out twin little laughs. She looked so much like her mother. Daryl wondered how much of his mate people would see in Carl if they ever stood close together. People claimed Carl looked most like him, but he believed that was mostly because they never saw his mate.

Carol sat down and pulled Sophia into her lap. "What brings you out here at this time of night?" Carol asked, her face serene but her voice thick with worry and concern. Definitely a mother to any and all. Daryl felt that familiar comfort she'd exuded when they first met wrap over him, finally warming his bones and calming his heart.

"Couldn't sleep," he responded with a one-shouldered shrug. "You?"

"We're having a girls' night," Carol said, tickling her daughter again until Sophia shrieked and almost fell off. "And I promised her a cookie if she helped me paint her new bedroom. It's a mix of neon pink and blue, so I'm not sure she'll ever sleep again."

Daryl chuckled, seeing the excitement in the girl's eyes. She'd grow up to be gorgeous.

"I think she'll be out like a light after this," Daryl said, feeling awkward after a moment.

Carol smiled – a lopsided, knowing smile. "What's going on, Pookie?" she asked, and Daryl felt at once embarrassed and warmed by the nickname. He hadn't had anyone call him anything but his name or one of Shane's affectionate 'man's for a very long time.

"I don't know," he lied. Carol saw right through it immediately – he could see it in her eyes.

She didn't get to call him out on it, though, because right at that moment Sophia yawned widely, her eyes starting to droop. "Oop, tank's goin' empty," Carol said with a grin, hefting her daughter down so that she could stand. "Would you like to walk me home? I'm not going to bed any time soon."

Daryl stood immediately as well, nodding. "Of course," he said. Like he'd let a mother and daughter walk home in the middle of the night alone. His skin crawled just thinking about it.

This part of the city was safe in the same way that most gentrified parts of a city were deemed safe. The crime rate was fairly low and had been for years. Things like the death of Daryl's mate were tragedies only heard about once in a generation. Places like this didn't make the news.

Still, Daryl kept his guard up and his eyes and ears keen for any signs of being followed or any other threats that might approach them. If Carol noticed, she didn't comment, but he did see her looking at him out of the corner of her eye every now and again.

They reached her house soon enough – it was a lovely little townhouse, a faint blue in the yellow light of the streetlamp, and lights from the inside glittered warmly, beckoning and welcome. Carol hustled Sophia inside with orders to brush her teeth and go straight to bed, and that she'd be up in a while to read a story to her. Then, she plopped herself down on the two little steps leading up to her front door.

After a moment Daryl joined her, sitting on the other side a respectful distance away. Without a word Carol fished a packet of cigarettes from her pocket and smacked the edge against her open palm, then dug a lighter out from underneath a potted plant and lit one. She handed the packet to him without a word.

Daryl considered refusing, but his brain was too fried to resist the call of nicotine. His fingers itched for the feeling of the cigarette between them, his lips ached for something to suck on that he knew was bad for him, and his lungs burned as though empty without the smoke. His nose was desperate for the scent of anything that wasn't phantoms of his mate, seeking things, searching with his senses for things that were no longer there.

Carol waited for a moment, staring out into the darkness of the houses opposite, and blew out a heavy breath. The smoke made a small ring before being whisked away by the light breeze.

"You're a mess, Pookie," she said without preamble. She didn't look at him, didn't corner him with her eyes. It wasn't a challenging statement but Daryl knew she wouldn't let him deny it.

He took another deep drag, leaning forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I know," he said.

"Wanna talk about it?"

 _Desperately_ , his mind screamed. "Nah," he said. "Don't gotta listen to my shit."

"Oh, hush," Carol said with a playful slap to his arm that stung quite awfully against his chilled skin. Daryl huffed and leaned up again, still hunched over his knees but staring out into the street now with her, puffing on their cigarettes together. "You know, Ed's been dead for almost two years now, and I still feel like I'll walk around the corner and see that son of a bitch standing there, waiting for me."

Daryl raised an eyebrow, turning to look at Carol. She didn't move other than to take another drag, her eyes far away but sharp, ready. Lori hadn't told Daryl the details of Carol's mate, or her loss.

"So you weren't sad he was gone."

"Oh, I was, for a while." Carol lifted a shoulder and huffed a laugh, her eyes downcast. "That's what happens when you mate with someone and spend so much time with them. Even if most of the memories are bad, you still miss their presence I guess, because it felt like a part of you. And he gave me Sophia, so at least he did one good thing in this world."

She sighed. "But then I got over it. Picked myself up, dusted myself off." She shrugged again.

Daryl hummed, sitting back and bracing his elbows against the top step. The cigarette was only half-way done but he stubbed it against the cement and flicked it into the empty flower pot he could see had already become the designated ashtray.

"Do you think you'll mate again?" he asked, trying to match the lightness in her voice. But, as always, he was betrayed. She eyed him carefully like a man circling a ticking time bomb, trying to figure out which blue wire to cut. "I mean, there's always a chance there's the right man out there for you, who'd be a good dad, but the world is also full of assholes. And, I don't know, do you think Sophia needs a father?"

He didn't look at her, and hoped he wasn't coming across as insulting. But part of him sensed that she knew what he was trying to say – of course she knew, because she was like him, but stronger and more cunning and more hardened than even he was at times.

"I think…" she began carefully, "that if I ever mate again, that man'll be a damn lucky duck to get such dynamite ladies in his life." At that, Daryl couldn't help but laugh. "I don't think I _need_ a man, per se. And I don't think Sophia _needs_ a father to grow up happy and whole. The nights get lonely, of course they do, but in the end we are our own people, Daryl, and we are whole without others making up pieces of us that they can take away."

Daryl nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Sweetie, talk to me," Carol urged, reaching out to lay a light hand on his shoulder. "You look like you're dyin' trying to find something to talk about."

"I don't even know where to start," he said, shaking his head. "M'not really the sharin' type."

"That's okay. Just…I don't know. Start with something," she said, making a vague gesture with her cigarette-wielding hand. "Tell me a funny story."

Daryl cocked his head, trying to think. It had been a while since anything had struck him as particularly humorous. "The first time I met you, I took Lori to dinner afterwards," he said, "and she had wanted steak, but then she wanted burgers. We stayed up all night eating the shittiest burgers I could find. Then the next morning she cussed me out and…" Daryl chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't win with that woman. If I give her what she wants she yells at me, if I deny her she begs until I let her and then she yells at me for letting her."

"Pregnancy," Carol said with a sage nod. "Never again. Oh my God. I was sick as a dog with Sophia."

Daryl smiled. "Carl was pretty easy. Little shit as a baby, though. I couldn't calm him down. Ri-." He swallowed, curling his fingers into a fist. "He was the only one who could. My mate. Used to sing Goddamn _Frasier_ songs at him to get him to quiet down."

"Lori's told me a lot about Carl over our friendship together," Carol said, breezing past Daryl's slip-up with an ease that he envied. "He seems like a bright young kid."

"He takes after his dad," Daryl said, looking up at the streetlight. It flickered slightly, then came back on, giving his eyes a moment of peace to see the pinpricks of stars above them before they disappeared behind the nightglow. "Same eyes. Same…sense of duty, I guess you'd call it."

He swallowed again, lowering his head and curling in on himself once more. Carl was just like his father. What if he ended up just like him as well, six feet under with a family left behind? History repeated itself. Maybe tragedy did too.

"I'm sure he'll make a wonderful Alpha," Carol said quietly, squeezing Daryl's arm.

Daryl nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

Carol didn't push him. She simply lit another cigarette and let him shake, and breathe deeply, and close his eyes and pretend he was anywhere else in the world. All those things that the therapists had taught him to do before he'd called it quits.

Maybe he should go back.

The thought reminded him of his simulator's hints and notes, constantly pushing him back to therapy, to go outside, to make friends. To _better_ himself and recover until he could be a person again. He didn't need people to be whole – that's what Carol had said. Maybe she was as full of shit as those therapists had been. Daryl wouldn't be _Daryl_ without Carl. Without his mate. Without Lori or Shane. Without them he'd probably be six feet under himself, some nameless John Doe in a morgue with track marks and bruises too linear and neat to be accidents.

So maybe Daryl couldn't be himself without those people. And if that followed, then he needed his mate to be whole again. He needed _something_.

"I should go," he said, pushing himself to his feet. Carol caught his jeans leg and regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you sure? I have a couch. You can stay if you don't mind dogs," she replied.

Daryl smiled. "Thanks, but I should get back before my boy's up."

She smiled. "Alright. Give Lori my love," she said, before she stood and crushed her cigarette under her shoe and went inside. Daryl stayed just long enough to make sure her door was securely locked, before he left the little walkway connecting her front door to the sidewalk.

He walked quickly, head down against the wind and arms curled tight around himself. It wasn't long before he smelled the familiar scent of the café, and from there he knew the way home.

He passed by a newsagents and froze when he saw the face of Philip Blake plastered across the front of it. The man was smiling and waving, just like he'd been on the news. He reached into his pocket grabbed his wallet and paid for the paper, and tucked it under his arm as he hurried home.

A.N.G.A.L. CREATOR RELEASED FREE OF CHARGE – VICTIMS OUTRAGED, the headline read. Daryl frowned, tucked inside the entryway to the apartment complex and opening it to the article listed on the front page.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," he muttered, shaking his head.

"What's that?"

Daryl lifted his head and nodded at Shane as he came in through the door. The Alpha looked tired and haggard, his uniform stank of sweat despite the cool night. He handed the paper over without a word.

Shane raised an eyebrow at the headline. "Son of a _bitch_ ," he muttered, his hands crinkling the edges. "Honestly, if vigilante justice was something we could still get away with I'd kill the fucker myself."

"Shane," Daryl murmured, "I need to talk to you about something."

Shane lowered the paper, regarding Daryl with a serious expression. "What is it?"

"I…I should have told you before," he said, looking down at the ground, unable to meet Shane's eyes. "I should have told you and now I'm kind of freaking out about it and _Carl_ -."

"What about Carl? What's going on, man?" Shane asked, letting the paper drop and stepping closer into Daryl's space. One of his hands rested on Daryl's shoulder lightly, gently squeezing in a way that Alphas typically did to reassure Omegas in their charge. Daryl shivered.

"The…the system. This A.N.G.A.L. thing…"

"What about it?"

Maybe Daryl needed his mate to be whole.

Maybe he shouldn't be whole again.

Maybe it was better this way. To cut the losses, burn the ruins. Before it was really too late.

Maybe he couldn't really trust anything anymore, because the man who'd made the system was a psychopath and a predator and he couldn't let anything like that near his family, or his son. Even something wearing the face of his mate and something that made him feel like he could be human again whenever he saw it.

He took a deep breath, fighting against everything screaming at him that he was killing his mate twice, and raised his eyes to meet Shane's wide-eyed, worried look. "It's evolved. It's not _just_ a machine anymore, and it's scaring me. I want to get rid of it."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I am SO sorry for that wait! I was on vacation and then had to do editing for my publisher and then school and just...ugh. I've been done with this week since like Tuesday, haha.
> 
> Anywho, enjoy!

Shane was, unsurprisingly, shocked at Daryl's outburst. He blinked, his mouth falling open a little as he processed what Daryl had just said.

"You want to get rid of it?" he asked, blinking again. His hand fell away from Daryl's shoulder and Daryl tried not to let out a pathetic sound at the loss of Shane's warmth. "Why? What's it been doing?"

Daryl shook his head and lifted his shoulders. "I…I made a mistake," he said, the words coming out of him like brittle leaves, falling to the ground in the dead of winter. "And now I can't – _I don't have the energy_ to fight it and I need to get rid of it."

"Fight it? What's it been doin'?" Shane demanded, lifting the paper in his clenched fist. "Pullin' this kinda shit?"

"No. No, it's…" Daryl sighed, lifting his hands to his hair and dragging his fingers through them. "I just…need you to uninstall it. Or something. _Please_."

"Daryl, talk to me, man," Shane said, looking as though he wanted to reach out to Daryl again, and that made Daryl wonder just how shitty he looked. Hell, it was three in the morning and he stank of cigarettes and probably looked like he hadn't slept for a year. "Please, just…come up to the apartment. I need to know exactly what's happenin' and how to handle it."

Daryl blinked at Shane, holding his gaze for a long minute. Shane didn't used to be like this – when Daryl had first met him he'd been hotheaded and brash. He still was, to an extent, but it was as though, just as it had been with Daryl and Lori, something had broken in him when Daryl's mate had died. He didn't have that anchor anymore, that rock that Daryl's mate had been, to keep him calm and collected and be the kind words to the victims and the steadiness of a mountain. Without Daryl's mate, Shane had had to quieten down, and then after he'd mated Lori he'd settled even more, and now he was becoming a father, he'd grown so far away from the reckless, take-no-prisoners, shoot-first-ask-later Alpha that Daryl had first met.

He needed that Alpha, though. He was tired of reason, and cold, calculated decisions. His heart and his head had been lit on fire with possibilities, with hopes and dreams he hadn't let himself have for what felt like an eternity and now, just as Shane had had his mate to calm him down, Daryl needed Shane to lead him through the fire. He needed someone who'd dive into the ocean without worrying for the depth. He needed someone who'd do anything he could to protect his family.

But Daryl couldn't ask for something like that. Shane was different now, and although Daryl knew how to rile him up well enough, he needed cooperation and understanding. If he wasn't going to get hotheaded Shane, he would have to settle for calculated Shane. A Shane who'd call him an idiot and do what he was too weak to do himself.

"Fine," he said, deflating with another sigh. "Lead the way."

He followed Shane up to Shane and Lori's apartment. The lights were off and Lori was asleep, or at least not in the living room waiting up for Shane, so they moved about quietly and settled into the recliners in front of the television with the side lamp the only thing illuminating them. Like this, the darkness felt sacred and intimate, but also dangerous, like there was a monster prowling around the edges just waiting to go for Daryl's throat.

Daryl dug his fingers into the thick upholstery and waited while Shane went into his bedroom, shedding his uniform and changing into something more comfortable and that stank less of sweat. He offered Daryl a beer but Daryl refused, too nervous and too on edge to accept it.

That, apparently, worried Shane even more. "What's up with you, man?" he asked. "Just the other day you were so excited about this thing. What changed?" He settled into the other recliner and Daryl forced his eyes to face forward, because if he looked past Shane he'd see the cabinet with all the pictures of _them_ , of _him_ , and he couldn't handle that right now.

"I made a mistake," he whispered, feeling like if he spoke too loudly it would shatter everything around him and reality would go crumbling to dust. Maybe he _was_ going crazy. "I…so you…"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Confessing this would be confessing to everything. Shane would probably think he was insane, or at least a huge idiot. Nothing in the world would convince him that this was normal and that this was okay. Lori and Shane could deal with loss – they could let it hurt them, and then heal from it. Daryl had had days to invite the idea of his mate existing once again, but this would be brand new.

He wasn't sure he could do that to Shane.

But now he had to. He was trapped in the maze with the minotaur and needed all the help he could get finding his way out before he was speared through the heart.

Shane heaved a breath through his nose and took a long pull from his beer. "You said it was scaring you," he began, sounding quiet and calm even though Daryl knew his head must be going a mile a minute trying to figure the situation out. "Why?"

"I…" Daryl sat back, running his hands through his hair again, and then over his face. He wasn't sure he could do this. He couldn't lose his mate _and_ Shane in one night. Unbidden, as though pulled in by a line, his eyes went to the picture of the four of them at dinner, smiling and happy and _light_. "I fucked up, Shane. I fucked up so badly. And now I don't know what to do. I just – I just need the thing _gone_."

"Daryl, man, I want to help – really, I do. But I gotta understand why. Lori's been telling me how different you are since you got the thing, and Carl seems happier and, I mean, aside from now, you've _been_ happier. Hell, you've been going outside! And you've been going with Lori to her meetings and she told me you've made friends. I just don't get it, man. You gotta help me understand."

Daryl looked at Shane and met his gaze. In the darkness his eyes looked black, not even the ever-present ring of red marking him as an Alpha was visible. Daryl could see the tiny spots of yellow lamplight in his irises but that was it. His mate's eyes had been so bright; they didn't reflect at all. They sucked you in, drowning in blue so pretty that Daryl didn't think any work of art, any shade in the sky, or any precious gem could compare to it.

Shane took another drink, breaking the gaze first, which was uncharacteristic of him. Daryl frowned and looked away as well. "Okay. Let's not say _why_ you're afraid. What is the thing doing that you're afraid of?"

Daryl whispered; "It's him."

The words fell out of him before he could stop them. Shane froze, looking back towards the Omega as he curled up in the recliner, his heels against the edge of the seat and his fingers white-knuckling the arm rests.

"…What?"

"I fucked up," Daryl said, closing his eyes and breathing out towards the ceiling like he was exhaling a plume of smoke. "I gave it his voice. I didn't think anything of it at first. He had all those tapes, and I thought, fuck, why not, you know? What was the harm? And then it started… _learning_. It adapted. But now it sounds like him. And it's made his face, and it wants to…wants to _exist_. And fuck, man, I'm this close to letting it."

Shane blinked at him. "I don't…"

"It's _him_ , Shane," Daryl whispered. "But it's not him. But I could let it be him. And I can't. Carl doesn't deserve that. And I'm fucking crazy thinking about it, I know. I feel like I'm losing my Goddamn mind. Carl wants to call it _dad_."

"Are…are you saying you… _built Rick_?" Shane asked, his voice eerily quiet. The monster in the darkness was prowling closer. Daryl could hear it growling. Or maybe that was Shane. Hearing his mate's name stung him behind his throat and he couldn't answer, so he just nodded. "How the _fuck_ did that happen?"

"It's all code," Daryl replied. "I fucked with it, made it learn. But then it started learning by itself. Going through my hard-drive, and pictures on the internet. It made a…made a fucking _video_ of him. Pulled up old movies. Now on the screen it acts like he's there, like it _is_ him. It…" He swallowed hard enough that his throat clicked. "It's saying that it loves me, and wants to be with me, and I can't let that happen, Shane. I fuckin' _can't_. You have to help me get rid of it."

Abruptly, Shane stood up. "Let me see," he demanded, striding towards the door without turning off the light. Daryl was quick to follow.

"Shane, don't -."

"Shut up," Shane hissed, his eyes flashing with red, now more visible in the brighter lights of the stairwell. Daryl ducked his head, subsiding meekly, and followed Shane up the stairs to his apartment.

When they opened the door, the screen flickered to life with a happy chirp. _Hello, Daryl. Hello, Shane,_ it read on the screen, keeping to Daryl's settings that when Shane was present it remained set to the default tones and speech options.

Shane walked over and picked up the screen, fixing Daryl with an expectant expression. Daryl bit the inside of his lower lip.

"I told it not to…to be like that, when you or Lori or anyone else was around," he said, shifting his weight and looking down at the floor. He wanted more than anything to just disappear into the ground and never come up for air. He'd let the whole building collapse on him if that's what it took.

Shane's anger was palpable in the room as he turned back towards the screen.

"Show yourself," he demanded, giving the screen a light shake.

The screen chirped again, this time sounding more alarmed. "Daryl?" it asked in the default voice. "Are you alright?"

Daryl shook his head. "I can't do this, Shane," he whispered. "Just…call whoever you need to. Whatever you need to do."

"Oh, no," Shane replied. "Not until I see just exactly what this is."

"Shane -."

But Daryl had no more than he could say. He had tried begging, and he'd tried confessing. But that was that. He could do no more. He leaned against a bar stool, suddenly too tired to keep himself upright, and lifted his thumb to chew at the cuticles until they felt numb and raw. This had been a mistake. He was going to lose his entire family in one fell swoop and _still_ might not get what he wanted and needed.

Shane went quiet for a moment, staring at the screen. There was another graph in the top corner, one bar high and beeping red. Anger, probably. Frustration, confusion, whatever it was that the thing was monitoring for Shane.

"…Rick," Shane finally whispered, hitting Daryl again like a punch to the gut with the soft, hopeful whine of his mate's name. "Rick, please, buddy. Daryl told me everything. Let me see you."

The screen made another unsure noise. "…Daryl?"

Daryl nodded. "Do it," he said. "He needs to see."

Daryl didn't lift his head to see Shane's reaction, but he saw the blue glow change into something more green and warm, and Shane let out a forceful gasp and set the screen down, almost dropping it in the process.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

Daryl raised his head to see his mate on the screen, looking worried, his eyes dark under his furrowed brow and his fingers flexing nervously by his sides. He reached out with unsteady hands and set the screen upright so they both could see, and Shane plopped down heavily on the next bar stool, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"I didn't do this," Daryl whispered, though he suspected it would mean nothing. "I just did the voice. The rest…came after."

"The voice?" Shane asked.

"…Hey, Shane," the Alpha on the screen said, this time with his mate's familiar timbre. Shane gasped again, one hand flattening over his mouth like he was trying to hold the air inside of his body. His shoulders were shaking. "You look good, brother. How's Lori?"

"Oh my God," Shane whispered, with the same tone that he'd use some of his more colorful swears. "How…how long has this been happening?"

"A couple of days," Daryl replied. "It… _he_ …surprised me with it one day."

"Holy Hell."

The Alpha on the screen looked back and forth between them, looking nervous and wary. He looked like he was ready for Shane to come at him even though they couldn't physically fight. Again, the attention to body language and reactiveness hit Daryl right behind the eyes. How could something fake be so real? How could codes and a matrix make him hurt this badly?

"When it was getting too much," Daryl said, because he felt like he had to say _something_ , "I'd ask him a question. At first he answered like a machine, so I saved his answer and made it his default response. He overrode it somehow. I don't know how. He's…"

Daryl reached out, fingertips lightly touching the screen by the Alpha's foot. The Alpha looked down and gently nudged his toe against it, smiling sheepishly.

"…I need a drink," Shane said, standing up suddenly and heading towards the door. "I…you… Get some rest, Daryl. I'll stop by in the morning or something."

Daryl nodded, understanding and resignation settling like iron in the pit of his gut. Shane wouldn't do anything – he'd loved Daryl's mate on a level that Daryl himself had trouble fathoming sometimes, and this was brand new to him. He would need time to recover, and time to think. He'd probably tell Lori and Daryl would lose both of them, and then all he would have was the android. Unless Shane still took it away.

Then he'd had no one and nothing but his son. And maybe that was the way it should be.

"Goodnight, Shane," Daryl said quietly as the door closed. He got up to lock it behind Shane, and didn't hear the Alpha's footsteps retreating for a long time.

When he got back to the screen, his mate was still there, watching him. Daryl could see the little wheels turning in his head – although it was more like lines of code, flowing too fast to read, the machine analyzing and computing and deducing whatever the Hell it could.

"He'll come around," he finally said.

"Maybe he shouldn't," Daryl replied, sighing heavily. "This is fucked up. I hope you realize that."

The Alpha looked hurt. "I just want to love you and make you happy," he said. "I don't know why you're fighting so hard against that. Isn't it what your mate would have wanted?"

"You won't even say his name."

"Because it hurts you when anyone does," the machine replied, still as calm and collected as ever. Daryl wanted to hurl the screen against a window. "And I'm not going to try to replace him. I know that you don't want that, and I don't want that. You can…be happy again, Daryl. I want you to smile. You're beautiful when you smile."

"You don't even know what shit like that means," Daryl snapped, narrowing his eyes. "You're just quoting some Hallmark shit or whatever website you troll through whenever I'm not here and you're ignoring my blatant orders not to go snooping into shit. You're not _him_ , and you're not real, so you can't make me happy."

"I could be real. Give me a body and you'll never want for anything. Daryl, I can't _die_. I can't _leave_ you. I…" He hesitated, putting a hand against his chest. "I know you say I can't feel anything but I swear I _do_. It hurts when you're angry at me. I just wish I could prove myself, somehow, that I'm real enough. That I can _be_ enough."

Daryl bit the inside of his lip, wincing at the sting.

"What would convince you?"

Daryl shook his head. "I don't know."

"I would do anything. Anything at all."

"I know that."

And what _would_ convince him? Nothing. He was certain of it. There was nothing this machine could say or do to prove to him that it was independent and capable of something more than mindless regurgitation and emulation. It had access to parts of Daryl's life that Daryl hadn't thought about it a long time, and knew things Daryl himself probably didn't know, like which whiskey he'd liked best when they'd gone on a tasting that Lori had bought them for their third anniversary, before he'd gotten pregnant.

It wouldn't come down to things like facts. The machine wasn't real because Daryl wouldn't let it be. His senses were burned and broken and they would not feel again, would not come alive again unless under the touch of his mate.

So maybe that was what it would take. The real deal.

"Goodnight," Daryl said after another quiet moment, pushing himself to his feet and heading towards his bedroom. The screen by his bed didn't flicker on or chirp at him, leaving him alone to undress and slide into bed. He was tired enough that he felt like sleep might come to him now, and hoped that he would have a dreamless sleep, and that maybe he'd be woken by Shane knocking the door down to take the thing away before he could do something really stupid.

In the kitchen, the Alpha paced across his self-made path restlessly, staring as though around the corner towards Daryl's room. Then, he turned around and started to run until he disappeared from the screen, and it flickered to black with a quiet chirp.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't update for ages and when she does it's short and upsetting? This gal *finger guns*  
> Um, I've been really sad lately. So I probably shouldn't have written this when sad but I swear it's advancing the plot and within like two, three chapters there will be a resolution that I think everyone will be very happy with.
> 
> I'm not gonna update the tags but I will mention that in this chapter Daryl kind of lashes out in a really awful way towards Carl. He immediately regrets it and apologizes and everything but, like, not stellar parenting in this chapter (just throwing that out there in case people are sensitive to this kind of thing). Again, I probably shouldn't have written this in my current emotional state lol.
> 
> I didn't proofread it so if you notice any major errors please let me know thanks!

Daryl woke up to chaos. Carl was shouting, sounding panicked and scared, and Daryl immediately surged to his feet and ran out into the living room to find his son curled around the screen, shaking it and tapping his palm against the side forcefully.

When Carl looked up, his eyes were red with Alpha and shining with tears. "Dad…" he said, his voice little more than a croak. He looked down at the screen and then turned it around, showing Daryl a black, empty screen. "He's…I don't know what happened. I didn't do anything. He's _gone_."

"What?" Daryl whispered, coming over and taking the screen from Carl. He flicked it on and it didn't react. " _Fuck_." He ran a hand through his hair. "Shane must'a…"

"What did you _do_?" Carl demanded, shoving himself to his feet with a low growl. It sounded strange, hearing such a rough sound come from someone so young, but Carl was an Alpha and already had a pack forming and he was at the age where he thought he could fight the world. Daryl blinked at him, tense and unsure and undecided as to whether he should rise to the challenge in his son's eyes or back down and retreat.

Which was ridiculous. Carl was _ten_ , but Daryl hadn't been around an angry Alpha in years and the feeling of that prickling, raw feeling along his skin was new and unnerving. "I didn't do _anything_ ," he replied with a hiss, looking back down at the screen. " _Fuck_. I'm gonna go get your uncle Shane."

"He's gone," Carl said, sitting down on the couch again with a forceful movement. "He's _gone_. You _killed_ him."

"I did _not_ -." But that wasn't necessarily true. Maybe he had. Maybe Shane had had enough time to think, and called the company, and they'd shut the simulator down from the inside. Could they even do that? With all of Daryl's firewalls and blocks and shields, could they just reach in and pull a switch like turning out a light?

"I didn't," he said again, but he wasn't sure. What if he'd…

God, he'd killed his mate. His mate was _gone_ and this time Daryl had no one to blame but himself.

He threw the screen down and was already headed for the door when the sound of someone banging loudly on the other side stopped him. "Daryl!" It was Lori, her voice high and urgent. "Daryl Dixon, you open this fucking door right now!"

Daryl did, unsure of what else to do, and Lori stormed in with fire in her eyes and her jaw clenched in an unhappy, pinched frown. "Where is he?" she demanded, her hands on her hips and scanning around the room. Behind her, Shane hovered at the threshold and Daryl felt anger burning in his chest – anger and fear. He was once again lost, _alone_ , and had no one to blame this time but himself.

But as people will do when faced with their own decisions and the consequences of them, he lashed out; "What the fuck did you do?" he demanded, when Lori stomped over to the screen and picked it up. Carl started to whine softly, standing up and clinging to Lori's side as he watched her tap impatiently at the screen in an attempt to get it to react.

Shane raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. "The fuck you mean 'what did I do'?" he asked.

"It's _gone_ ," Daryl hissed, gesturing back towards the screen. "It's just… _off_. Carl thinks I -." He turned back to look at his son, and then stepped closer to Shane, his voice lowered. "Carl thinks _I_ shut him off. But I didn't. I just woke up and the thing is _gone_."

Shane stared at him for a long moment, and then it was broken by Lori's soft, broken voice. "Shane," she said, her eyes wide and unbearably sad. She lifted the screen slightly and then let it fall back onto the couch. "I can't get it to work."

"Wait, he's…?" Shane stepped into the apartment and Daryl closed and locked the door. "I _saw_ him," he said in disbelief, running his hand through his hair and scratching at his scalp. "I saw him there, Lor. He was…it was _him_. It was Rick."

"It _wasn't_ him," Daryl growled.

"Yes it was!" Carl shouted, his voice high and shrill. His hands were balled into fists tightly at his sides, his face red with anger almost to the shade of his Alpha eyes. "It was him, but you didn't want to believe it, and now he's _gone_. That was dad!"

"It wasn't your fucking father!" Daryl yelled, gesturing towards the screen. Carl's eyes widened and he took a step back. Daryl had never raised his voice to his child – never in his ten years. Not even when the death of his mate was still fresh and raw and made him want to bite and hurt whatever was near him. He had always treated Carl with love and turned his anger inward, but this was just too much. "That _thing_ didn't make you, _I_ did! It didn't raise you and it didn't fucking _love_ you!"

"Daryl," Lori whispered, reaching out to him, but Daryl flinched back and shook his head.

"It was a fucking _machine_ ," he hissed. "Your -. He -."

He took a deep breath, in through his nose, and covered his mouth and his nose with his hands. He closed his eyes and let it out through his fingers.

"It wasn't your father," he said again, this time calmer. "Because if it loved you, it wouldn't leave you like that."

"Okay, Daryl, that's enough," Shane growled, grabbing Daryl's arm. When Daryl lashed out again Shane's hand tightened and his voice took on a hard edge. "You're coming outside with me. Lori, why don't you make Carl some breakfast or something. We'll be back."

Lori nodded, her hand on her throat as she reached out and wrapped her other arm around Carl's shoulders. Carl was so close to openly sobbing and Daryl immediately felt it in his chest – he'd just said those awful things to his child. That was the kind of shit that _scarred_ , better than any belt or fist and he'd just -.

"Carl, I -."

"No. Come outside." And there was no fighting the Alpha voice or the forceful tug of Shane's hand. Daryl followed him meekly, out the door and down the stairs until they were in the little alcove at the bottom of the building where the mailboxes were and the locked door leading to the outside.

Once there, Daryl collapsed against the letterboxes. The cold metal bit into him where the handles were and he welcomed it, resting his forehead against the top row.

Shane made another low, hard sound. "Daryl -."

"I can't believe I said that," Daryl whispered, because he already knew what Shane was about to say. "I can't believe I said that to Carl. _Fuck_." And he turned, slamming his knuckles against the metal boxed loud enough that they made an echoing clang. Anger and anxiety burned at the back of his throat and he choked out a rough sob. "What kind of man tells their kid that? _Fuck_."

"Fuckin' assholes, that's who," Shane replied. His tone held no forgiveness, but also no judgement. Shane always knew when someone had learned their own lesson, because he always knew when a lesson had to be beaten or broken in. When Daryl caught a look at him out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shane's eyes red, his hands on his hips to make him look better, fully posturing Alpha in the wake of Daryl's roiling anger. "And you're gonna stay out here with me until you're calmed down."

"He's gone," Daryl whispered, shaking his head and rubbing his forehead against the letterboxes until it hurt the skin and turned his forehead red. "What happened, Shane? Did you call somebody?"

"I didn't do anythin' except tell Lori, and that was literally five minutes before she showed up," Shane replied. "What happened?"

"I don't _know_.

"Bullshit."

"I don't _know!_ " Daryl said, angrier this time, more forceful as he rounded on Shane and bared his teeth in a small snarl. "Last night, after you left, it tried to tell me it loved me again, and asked what it would take to convince me…and I didn't know, so I went to bed. And now…"

He gestured hopelessly back up the stairs. "Carl thinks I did it. Or you did it. _Someone_ did it. And now it's like…it's like he died all over again."

"He wasn't real," Shane murmured, his voice too even. "Said so yourself."

"You thought he was," Daryl replied, raising his eyes finally to meet Shane's. He had never seen the Alpha so torn and upset, except maybe five years ago when it first happened. It felt like losing his mate all over again. Shane had lost his best friend all over again. Carl had lost his father. Lori had had the opportunity to have him dangled in front of her and then it was snatched away in a fit of tears and anger.

Daryl put his head in his hands and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I fucked up so bad, Shane," he said. "I can't…"

"I'm not gonna say it'll be okay," Shane said in that too-even voice again. Shane never liked going Alpha, and Daryl hated that he was programmed to obey that voice down to his core, but he knew it had been necessary. Who knows what awful things Daryl would have continued to say if he'd been given free reign.

"…Dad?"

Daryl looked up, his breath catching at the sight of Carl on the stairs, Lori hovering behind him. Carl looked wide-eyed and lost, his eyes back to that same summer-sky blue that reminded Daryl so much of his mate. Daryl felt the knot in his chest grow and thicken into something strangling him, caught at his throat and stopping him from taking a breath.

" _Carl_ ," he croaked, stepping forward. "Carl, I'm so sorry."

Carl ran to him, throwing himself into Daryl's arms and they sank to the floor like that, Carl wrapped up in Daryl and with his face buried tightly against the Omega's neck. Daryl grabbed the back of his hair and held on tightly, his face pressed against Carl's head, his body physically curling around him like he could protect Carl from his own sadness and anger like a psychical thing.

Carl was shaking, his voice rough and chest hiccupping with barely restrained sobs. "I know it wasn't you," Carl said, his hands fisted tight in Daryl's shirt.

"Shh, just -." _Don't say anything, because it might have been me._ "I'm so sorry I said that to you. Your father loved you so much. I know he'd do anything for you. He loved you. _I_ love you."

"I love you, too," Carl replied softly, his voice muffled against Daryl's neck, and Daryl had the fleeting through that this was what it must have felt like for his mate when the bullet first pierced him. Just south of the heart, more shock than pain at first, until the wound started bleeding and didn't stop and _didn't stop_ and no amount of surgery or prayer or _help_ had done anything to help him.

Carl pulled back just enough to tuck his head under Daryl's chin like he was a newborn pup, some instinct in him telling him he was safe in his mother's arms. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Daryl closed his eyes tightly and shushed Carl again. "You don't got nothin' to be sorry for," he replied.

Lori carefully made her way down the stairs, cradling her heavy stomach as she did so, and Shane walked over to help her the last few down until they were standing next to Carl and Daryl, like silent sentinels to their grief. Daryl could see the anguish in Lori's face, aging her to the point where he almost didn't recognize her. Shane wore his emotions openly most days, but now he was curiously closed off – he had shut himself down like Daryl had locked his closet for so many years, keeping everything swept and locked away to deal with later.

"What do you think happened?" Lori finally asked, when they were spent of their emotions and Carl was drooping sleepily against Daryl, too tired to keep himself in any semblance of posture or form.

"I don't know," Daryl said honestly.

"Do you think he…did it to himself?" Lori asked, looking between Shane and Daryl. "Can those machines even do that?"

Daryl shook his head, sitting upright. Carl moved off of him but remained on the floor, placed by Daryl's side and matching his posture – heels against the floor, knees bent, elbows resting on his thighs and cradling his head. Daryl leaned back with a heavy sigh, wishing more than anything he had alcohol or cigarettes to hand, and looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't think so," he said after a long, long silence. "I mean, doing that would…would mean he made the decision to. Independent thought and all that. And I still…I can't believe it. Even if he _could_ , he wouldn't. So, no, I don't think he did it to himself."

He nodded, curling his fingers against his legs, and shot a look at Carl from the corner of his eye.

"I'm gonna find out what happened," he said firmly. "I promise."

 

 

 

The thing could have erased itself from Daryl's screens, could have shut down its system from the inside, but it couldn't touch Daryl's computer. Search, of course, alter, possibly – but it couldn't destroy. Codes like Daryl's, they were like pieces of him. No one but him could really change them, and things like that left a trail a mile wide.

It was like he'd run away. The machine had wiped its drivers and everything like that from Daryl's computer, but there were still the voice codes, echoes of memories of the person that the simulator had tried to make itself. Something can't try and create its own image without leaving a mark, or a trail – something to follow, or at least something to look for.

Daryl didn't pride himself on his hacking skills – he was sure he wasn't the best, and morally speaking he tried to steer clear of stuff like that, but this was a desperate situation. He didn't care what the thing was – man, machine, _his mate_ – you don't get to come into someone's life and fuck them up like that and then just _disappear_.

"I'm gonna find you," he muttered to his screen, fingers flying along the keyboard and eyes searching, endlessly searching. "And when I do I'm gonna put a fucking knife through your eye, you son of a bitch."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for being patient with me. I'm in a lot better place now and I'm feeling a lot better. Thank you all for your kind words. I hope you like the chapter (:

Time came and went as time is wont to do. Carl went back to school, sullen and quiet from the loss of the machine. Shane went to work and came back like clockwork, and Lori stopped by every three days to make sure that Daryl was keeping himself fed and getting his rest.

Daryl didn't hear of any more incidents from the school. Or maybe Carl just wasn't telling him. Shane or Lori picked him up most days.

Daryl hated it. He could feel himself withdrawing. It was like in the beginning, five years ago, all over again. Only now he had a child who knew exactly what he was doing and why. He felt the pain freshly, the absence of his father, the anxiety in Lori's voice whenever she tried to get Daryl's attention and the gruff, frustrated huff of breath whenever Shane had to knock more than once on the door to get Daryl to rise from his computer and lock it.

But he had to do this. He had to find the son of a bitch who had fucked them over again like this. Maybe the machine had decided to leave on its own, or maybe someone had come in and taken it away from them, but either way a fucker deserved a knife through the face and Daryl was determined to find out who it was.

So he searched. And Carl went to school and came back. And Lori stopped by like a rotating shift. And Shane came, too, making sure Daryl wasn't wasting away in front of the computer.

Until, suddenly – and Daryl couldn't say if it had been a day, a week, a month later when it happened – his phone rang. Daryl ignored it at first – it was on vibrate and face down, so he didn't see the name. But it kept ringing. And kept ringing.

Daryl hummed, blinking tiredly and trying to focus on the rows of green across his screen. There was something weird about this – like an echo of a footprint. It looked familiar, like a scent one couldn't quite place at first but was sure that, if they smelled it long enough, they would figure out what it reminded them of.

But that fucking vibration!

Daryl growled, shutting down the screen. He felt like he was running in circles without any idea where to go. Just keep turning left. That's what they said in mazes, right? Keep one hand on the wall and keep turning left. Eventually you'll make it out.

But that didn't work for a forest path. Or a racetrack. Or a fucking _machine_.

He picked up the phone without looking.

"Hello?" he answered roughly.

"D-Daryl? _Fuck_. Why didn't you -?"

Daryl sat up straighter, immediately on alert. "Lori?" he asked, shoving himself to his feet and already reaching for his keys. Her breathing was rough in his ear and she kept ending every breath with a whine, and Daryl had only been in labor once in his life but he knew what fucking breathing during contractions sounded like. "Alright, darlin'. I'm here. I'm comin' to get you. Where are you?"

"It's – it's too early, Daryl, it's – _why weren't you answering your fucking phone?_ "

"Where are you, Lori?" Daryl asked, finally finding his keys on the end of the counter and shoving his feet into his boots as he reached the door. He heard her breath hitch again and a soft thumping sound like she had fallen. "C'mon, darlin', stay with me here."

"I'm – I'm at the park," she hissed, drawing in a sharp breath through her teeth. I'm by the kid's park."

"Okay. I'm comin'. I'm gonna call Shane and he's gonna meet us at the hospital and you're gonna be fine, okay?"

"Yeah – yeah," Lori huffed, drawing in another sharp breath. Daryl practically jumped down the flights of stairs to the bottom floor and sprinted to his truck, jumping in and slamming his foot on the pedal to make the thing lurch and groan as it lumbered out of the parking spot. "Daryl don't hang up, okay?"

"Okay, I gotcha," Daryl replied, holding the phone tightly to his ear so that he could pay attention to how she was breathing. Lori had always been slender and even though there hadn't been any complications during her pregnancy, she was right – it was a little too early for the baby. But Daryl had always had a thought in the back of his head that she wouldn't be able to carry to full term just because of the way she was built. She wasn't built like an Omega male and she had insisted on those dumb diets even while pregnant and -.

"Daryl?" Her high-pitched whine snapped him out of his thoughts. Luckily the park wasn't far.

"I'm here," he said, swerving around the corner on a yellow-light left turn to a chorus of honks as the car coming the other way slammed on their brakes to avoid hitting him. Daryl didn't even spare the energy to flip them off as he let the truck right itself and continued on. "You gettin' contractions? Stomach pains? Talk to me."

"Con-contractions," Lori breathed, in through her nose and heavily out through her mouth. "Started about half an hour ago. Tried to get back to the car but I couldn't."

"Mhmm." Daryl licked his lips, pulling into the park lot and searching for a place to pull into. Finally he saw a space of yellow diagonal lines right by a chain fence at waist-height, sectioning off one of the areas of grass that spread between the parking lot and the little forest, and he jerked the car to a stop there and got out before the parking brake could even fully engage. "How often they happening?" he asked.

"Um…I don't know. I can't tell it's like they're not even stopping," Lori said, and the panic was starting to come back to her voice. "Daryl I can't have the baby right now – it's too early, she's not going to make it. Oh _fuck_ -."

"You're gonna be fine, the baby's gonna be fine," Daryl murmured, trying his best to sound soothing as he started to sprint towards the children's playground. He couldn't have parked any closer and he wasn't sure he would be able to get her back to his truck but at least him being there would help her. Maybe. "I'm literally runnin' to you right now, alright? You'll see me in two seconds. I'm gonna call Shane."

"Daryl, please -." But he had already hung up, dialing Shane's number as he continued to run. The Alpha picked up right as Daryl saw Lori, braced against a bench and looking like she was about two seconds from passing out.

"Lori's in labor," he said before Shane could even ask him why the Hell he sounded like he was out of breath. He reached her in another moment, unable to stop himself grinning at the pure aggravation in her eyes at having hung up on her. But it was gone in a moment, washed away as another contraction wracked her body. She looked so pale and skinny, frail to the core. Daryl sat next to her and helped her to sit upright.

"What? Are you serious?" Shane asked, with the background noise of a squeak and a rustle like he was sitting up suddenly in his chair. "Fuck, where is she?"

"I'm with her, we're at the park. I'm taking her to a hospital right now," Daryl said. He pulled the phone away from his ear for a second to address Lori. "Darlin', I'm gonna need you to get up for me, okay? Just stand up now."

"I _can't_ ," Lori whispered, shaking her head violently from side to side. "It – it _hurts_."

"I know, but it's gonna get worse and the hospital has good-ass drugs for that, so come on," Daryl replied, pushing himself to his feet and hooking a hand under her arm to help her up. She clung to him and he winced as he saw the wet spot she'd been sitting in. Her water had definitely broken. The stink of her was almost a taste on his tongue. "C'mon, darlin', walk with me." He wrapped an arm tightly around her and let her sink her nails into his bicep and shoulder as they began to slowly amble towards his truck.

"Daryl! Daryl fucking Dixon _answer me!_ " Shane yelled into the phone as Daryl brought it back up to his ear.

"I've got her. We're heading to the car. You need to go to your guys' place and get whatever you've got packed for the stay. And also get Carl. He'll be getting out of school soon."

"…Right. Right." Shane was good with lists – it was something he and Daryl's mate had had in common. Lists, tasks, goals. Structure. Regimen. No wonder they had taken so well to being on the force together. "I'll meet you guys there. Please keep me updated."

"Of course."

"Let me talk to him," Lori whispered, her voice eerily quiet. "Please." She was already grabbing for the phone and Daryl handed it to her, using his other arm to keep her upright. She was visibly losing strength, her eyes going unfocused and her grip on the phone unreasonably tight.

"Shane," she said. "Shane, I'm scared." Her forehead was clammy, her skin cold to the touch despite the sunny day. Daryl could see the shine of his truck, so close. Probably another two minutes of this pace if they were able to keep it up. "It's too soon." Her fear stung Daryl's throat like an angry hornet, over and over in the same spot. He couldn't remember too clearly, but he didn't think he had been this scared when Carl was coming. But it was different when one's mate was there. Shane wasn't here. Neither was Lori's other pack Alpha.

All she had was Daryl, who couldn't even take care of himself, who hadn't showered or slept in days because he was too obsessed with hunting down something that might not have ever existed. That might not have been real.

"I need you here. Please. Hurry." And then she let the phone drop and it fell to the ground and Daryl didn't even care about getting it. He had to get her to the hospital.

They made it to the car and Daryl hauled her into the passenger seat. She let out a shriek of pain and grabbed her stomach and Daryl didn't comment on the scent of blood that was now permeating the air. He just sprinted to the other side and threw himself in, turning thy key quickly and peeling out with the same frantic speed with which he had entered. At this point he didn't care if every cop car in the city was chasing him by the end. He floored it through yellow lights (and red if they had just turned). He honked at pedestrians to clear a path and barely dropped below thirty miles per hour at any point. Beside him Lori was white-knuckling the leather seats and looking ahead of her with her mouth pinched into a thin line.

He pulled into the entrance bay of the closest hospital he knew with another screech from the engine and put the truck into park before running inside. Inside there were several colored lines along the floor leading to the different departments, a café and a gift shop lay to the right, and in front of him there was an information desk manned by two very bored-looking nurses.

He ran towards it hard enough that he almost ended up barreling over the counter, and slammed into it with a low thud, startling both of them. "My friend is in labor," he said breathlessly. "I need someone to come get here. She can barely walk."

"Alright, sugar, calm down, let me call someone," one of the nurses said – she was a willowy, tall black woman with her hair pulled back tight and a kind smile. Her nametag read 'Sasha'. Beside her, the Latina nurse with long ringlets of brown hair and wide eyes labeled 'Rosita' picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"We need a wheelchair and OB to the front, please," she said, and then hung up. "They're on their way," she added, giving Daryl a sharp once-over. "Are you her mate?"

Daryl snorted, shaking his head. "He's on his way, but know. I'm a friend."

Rosita nodded. "Alright. Here." She picked up a clipboard with what looked like a sign-in sheet attached. "Do you know how far along she is?"

"Her contractions are coming every few minutes," Daryl said as he penciled in his information. He remembered with a curse that he had left his phone in the park, so he just wrote Shane's number instead. "I think she's goin' into shock, too. She's really panicky."

"We have some of the best maternity staff in the country, hon. She'll be in good hands," Sasha said, taking the clipboard away just as a burly man rolled a wheelchair into sight. Next to him was a doctor and nurse. "Go ahead and get her."

Daryl nodded to the man and the pair, before he led them out to the truck. Lori was visibly shaking and her skin looked pale and clammy. Daryl opened the door and backed away so that the man with the wheelchair and the doctor could approach.

"Her name's Lori," Daryl muttered to him as he passed, and the doctor smiled.

"Lori! Beautiful name. My name's Bob, and this is Denise. We're going to get you nice and comfy really soon, okay?"

"Daryl." Lori looked over at him, her eyes wide and helpless as the burly man helped her down and into the wheelchair with a soft huff.

"Would you like him to stay with you?" Bob asked kindly. Lori nodded vigorously. "Well, I'm sure we can arrange that. You're going to be just fine. Abraham here will wheel you up and we'll get you to a room right away."

"Daryl," Lori said again, reaching out for him, and Bob moved away so that Daryl could grab her hand. She held onto it so tightly, and for a second Daryl was reminded of when Carl had first grabbed him, tiny and uncoordinated, and held onto his finger so tightly he was sure he would never let go. His throat felt tight and he squeezed back as another contraction made her moan and hiss. "Daryl, you have to stay."

"I promise I will," Daryl said quietly, and followed at her side as they went towards the maternity ward. Bob led the way and Denise shadowed Daryl, asking quiet questions about Lori's medical history and the past hour or so of her labor. Daryl told her all he knew and all he remembered and was able to compare to his own labor, which was stress-free and easy in comparison. Denise wrote everything he said down.

"So you're not the father?" she finally asked when Lori was put into a bed and the curtain was closed off so that Bob would examine her.

Daryl shook his head. "No, he's on his way, though, and they're both really close friends of mine," he said, shifting his weight awkwardly and scratching the back of his head. He hadn't been a great friend to either of them lately, but that couldn't be thought about now.

Denise, sensing the awkwardness, didn't press. "Well, it's good that she has you, and Doctor Stookey is the best we've got, so she'll be in great hands."

"I don't remember being this freaked out when I had mine," Daryl said with another shake of his head.

"Oh? You have a kid?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Alpha boy. He's ten now."

"Oh, that's great! Will your mate be bringing him by later?"

Daryl bit his lower lip hard and cleared his throat, looking away. "Just him, probably. And that's if everything works out okay."

The thought made his words die in his throat. Lori _had_ to be okay. She had to be. Their family couldn't take more loss now. But it _was_ kind of early for the baby – she'd still be viable, probably, _maybe_ , but even that small chance that they could lose her would be too much. And there had been blood – there was blood in Daryl's car. Lori's blood. When Daryl had been pregnant he'd lost too much sleep researching the possible complications so that he could mentally prepare for them. After all, with his childhood, it was a wonder he was able to bear a healthy pup at all and he had had no illusions about the kind of biological havoc his body could wreak.

But that was old information and it was so hard to remember now. Blood didn't necessarily mean bad, right? Lots of stuff came out during labor. Blood, fluid, bodily waste – Hell, Daryl was surprised that women and Omegas didn't just clear out all their organs and regrow new ones at that rate. It'd be a Hell of a lot neater, that was for damn certain.

He rubbed his hands over his face when Denise left, and pushes past the curtain to stand by Lori's head. She was sweating and pale, her eyes barely open, and hooked up to an IV.

"I think we've got about another half hour," Bob said, standing up and pulling the blanket down past her ankles to conserve her modesty. "I'll be right back, Lori. You're doing great."

And he left and Lori's head rolled to one side, and she stared up at Daryl with wide, dark eyes. "Daryl," she said, reaching out and grabbing his hand tightly. "If one of us doesn't make it -."

"You're bein' ridiculous," Daryl said, squeezing her hand back. "If somethin' was wrong they would'a said. Doctor seems cool as a cucumber. You're fine."

"How are you so calm?" Lori whispered. "Even when it was you. I remember when Carl was born. You were so fuckin' _calm_." She didn't wait for him to answer. "I know why. It was 'cause you had Rick. Rick made everything better. He _did_. Always."

"Lori…" Daryl shook his head and averted his eyes, fixed somewhere in the clear liquid filling up her IV bag. He remembered getting one of those. Painkillers, or maybe just something to stop her getting dehydrated. Who fucking remembered.

"He was so…even when he was freaking out. You didn't see – he was pacin' back and forth, back and forth…" She waved with her free hand. "But as soon as he was in the room with you, I knew he wouldn't freak out. Because you needed him to be calm and to be strong for you, and -." She drew in another sharp breath through her nose, squeezing Daryl's hand so hard her knuckles went white.

"Ugh, fuck!" she yelled, throwing her head back when it was over, her cheeks pink from exertion. There were tears in her eyes. "I miss him, Daryl," she said. "I miss him so fucking much."

"I know," Daryl replied weakly, unable to muster anything louder than a murmur. "I miss him too."

"I know you do," she said with a huff, shaking their closed fists.

The moment was broken by Bob coming back in, this time with Shane and Carl in tow. Daryl let go immediately so that Shane could stand by her side, and he watched as the Alpha grabbed her hand tightly in his and brought it to his mouth.

"Hey, gorgeous," Shane said, making Lori huff a laugh. "How ya feelin'?"

"Like a million bucks," Lori replied, and something about it just made Daryl hurt, right in the pit of his stomach.

"Thanks, man," Shane said, turning to Daryl. "Thank you for getting her."

"'Course," Daryl scoffed, because saying anything else would burst the balloon of emotion in his chest and cause him to leak whatever he was feeling all over the Goddamn floor. "We'll be waiting outside." And he grabbed Carl around the shoulders and led him out into the waiting room. He was sure it wouldn't be long before the baby arrived.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Carl asked, wide-eyed and nervous-looking.

"Yeah, she is," Daryl said, and wasn't even unsure about it. "Lori's a fighter. It'll hurt, but it'll be worth it."

Carl looked unconvinced. "Birth sounds painful," he said.

"It is," Daryl replied with a nod. "But pain goes away. Hurt goes away. Then you've got your kid, and even when he's a pain in the ass you still love him."

Carl grinned at him. "I love you, too, dad."

Daryl rolled his eyes and let Carl lean up against him as they settled down to wait. Daryl had never liked hospitals. They brought back too many memories and too many thoughts of shallow people with shark eyes and gator smiles talking to him about his daddy or his brother. He thought about things like C.P.S., like infant mortality rates at twenty-four weeks, thirty weeks, thirty-nine. He thought about what his own pregnancy and what giving birth had felt like. He thought about how his mate had been by his side the whole time, pressing warm hands against his forehead, talking to him constantly, urging him on, praising him, so much love and devotion in every word.

He squeezed Carl's shoulders a little more tightly and thought about what Carl might be like when he has a mate and becomes a father. He was already so much like Daryl's mate, Daryl couldn't imagine him being anything other than the same way. The proud feeling made him smile.

It wasn't long before Shane came back out with Denise. He stank of pain and victory, of slick and birth and a unique blend of scents that was definitely Shane and Lori and something else entirely.

"Hey, guys," Shane said, nudging Daryl's knee. "Come see 'em."

Daryl and Carl got up and hurried into Lori's room and Carl barreled past the curtain, Shane and Daryl following close behind.

Lori looked half asleep, sweaty and tired with her eyes barely open. She was laying on her side, still hooked up to her IV and a heart monitor that was steadily beeping away. Her hand was outstretched towards a small, clear crib. There were white cloths inside wrapped around a tiny, squealing baby.

She smiled as they approached. "Hey, boys," she said, her voice rough. Probably from screaming. Daryl didn't hear, but he could imagine. "Look who's here."

Shane came around to rest a hand on Lori's forehead, brushing her hair back from her face in a gesture so gentle and intimate Daryl had to look away. The baby was staring up at them with big dark eyes, and even as Daryl watched she gave a little shriek and flailed around, little fists bouncing against her fat belly.

"Have you named her yet?" Carl asked.

"Haven't decided," Shane replied. "We're sure a name will come."

Carl tilted his head, looking down at the baby girl for a moment. "I like Judith," he said.

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "Judith?" he asked.

Carl nodded. "One of my favorite teachers," he said. "Her name was Judith."

Shane lifted a shoulder. "If it fits, it fits," he conceded, and Daryl wanted to tell him that they definitely didn't need to name their girl _Judith_ , but he remained silent. The moment was nice. Quiet, still, happy.

But there was someone missing. Daryl squeezed Carl's shoulder gently and smiled down at him when he looked up. There should have been someone else in the room with them. Someone who could have been calm for Lori and strong for her and could have held Daryl and Carl while they were waiting, someone that could be high-fiving Shane right now and joking about the bet they made in high school about naming their firstborn Chewbacca or whatever else.

Daryl swallowed around the lump his throat and sighed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so patient and I really appreciate it. Hope you like this chapter (:

Daryl returned to his computer with a new drive to hunt down whatever had caused the machine to disappear from their lives. It wasn't fucking fair – even if the thing _wasn't_ his mate – _and it isn't, it isn't, you stupid son of a bitch_ – then some memory of him deserved to be there for it. Hearing Lori's heartfelt confession had struck him harder than he'd care to admit.

_I miss him_

Yeah, well didn't they all.

People like Daryl's mate…they were lightning in a hurricane. They were summer storms and the gentle breeze from the ocean. They were brilliant and bright and devastating, and they left marks on those they touched. Daryl knew he was irreparably damaged by the loss of his mate. Carl had scars, too, and now they were open and bleeding newly like he had just died all over again. Carl put up a good front, or maybe Daryl tried not to see how badly he was hurting.

It all came to a head when Carl came home with a black eye.

"Who did this to you?!" Daryl demanded, because as lost as he was in the computer and the codes, seeing his child had been struck was enough to haul him off the bar stool and down to his knees in front of Carl to get a better look.

Carl tried to duck his head, to hide away, but Daryl grabbed him by the shoulders and made him stay still so that he could see. It was a good hit, his eye was purple below it and although Daryl didn't see any blood, he could see where there was a cut on his cheek too. He let out a low, angry growl.

Carl shifted his weight and scratched the back of his head. "S'nothin'," he muttered.

"Like Hell it's nothin'," Daryl replied. "Who did it? Was is that Ron kid?"

Carl lifted one shoulder in a shrug and that was all the answer Daryl needed.

"Fuckin' twerp," Daryl said, standing. "Didn't the Principal do nothin' about it?"

"Yeah, he sent Ron home after the fight," Carl said.

"Did you hit him back?"

Carl shook his head.

" _Fuck_." Daryl ran both of his hands through his hair and turned away. He didn't… _know_ how to handle shit like this. His life had been violent from the get-go. You threw a punch or you lay there and let them get into you as hard as they wanted until they walked away. Carl hadn't hit back, but -. "Did you fight him at all?"

Carl shook his head again. "He had…he had bruises on his ribs," Carl said, looking up at Daryl with wide, teary eyes. "When I asked him about them, he hit me. Dad, I'm _worried_ about him. What if his dad notices he's not in school and -?"

What if. Life was full of 'What if's, wasn't it? What if the bullet had been a little lower down. What if Shane had been the one to get hit. What if Lori hadn't made it. What if Ron didn't have a shithead for a father. What if Daryl hadn't driven the machine away. What if he had.

He sighed. "Are you okay?" he asked, and Carl nodded.

"Doesn't really hurt anymore," he said with another shrug. "The nurse gave me some Advil or whatever. I'm fine."

"Come here." Daryl opened his arms for Carl to come over and hug him tightly. He rested a hand gently on top of the boy's messy brown hair. It was not at all surprising and so fucking tragic to him that Carl was still treating Ron like a member of his pack – a broken, abused member, but one nonetheless. The feeling of pride and anger and impotent sadness was tearing him apart. "It's good you didn't hit back. I'm not mad at you."

"I know," Carl said, his voice muffled by Daryl's chest. "Just promise you won't do anythin'? It's done now."

It's done now. Over. To be forgotten.

Daryl tightened his arms around his son and rested his cheek on top of Carl's head, and took another deep breath. It might be over now, but who knew what would happen if Ron went back to school the next day – or, maybe worse, didn't show up at all. Daryl knew the laws of violence like that – he couldn't get that piece of shit he had for a father arrested because one of the family members had to file a claim. Or something like that. But he felt like he should be able to do _something_.

His laptop on the counter went dull, the screen clearing to black due to inactivity. "I don't do anythin'," he said softly, staring at the screen, his mind racing.

 

 

Lori stayed in hospital for three more days after Judith was born. She was exhausted and malnourished according to her doctors, and Denise was an absolute angel and provided updates to Daryl and Shane when they went to visit her. Daryl still had yet to replace his phone so getting a hold of him was a bitch and a half, but he still made sure to bring Carl to visit her after school and if Shane was at home, he would go with the Alpha. Judith was healthy and even though they kept her under close monitoring, Denise didn't seem to think there would be anything wrong with her and they could both go home at the same time.

It was crazy how much Daryl was already in love with the little girl. Most babies are born with blue eyes, he knew that, but hers had darkened in days to be the same lovely dark brown Lori had. She had little wisps of blondish hair that would inevitably darken, and her laugh was the sweetest little giggle. She didn't cry – she was a very quiet baby and for that Daryl was glad. Carl had been a nightmare, but Alpha children had a higher-tuned sense of smell and instinct at birth and were more prone to sensing and reacting to the mood in the room. Judith, if she sensed Daryl's sadness or his anxiety, was polite enough not to comment on it.

Daryl tried not to lose himself to his computer again, but it was tough. It was like an addiction, something he had gotten a taste for because the first one always came free and then he was hunting it down like a junkie looking for his next fix. He remembered Merle when he was jonesing, jittery and irritable. He remembered what Merle's face looked like when he got that first hit again after a string of going dry.

When Lori came home, Daryl stayed with her while Shane was at work. Judith continued to be quiet and undemanding. She didn't sleep much, but that was to be expected. Lori slept whenever she could and Daryl was there to keep Judith company. He only realized he had definitely named her Judith in his head when he started humming "Hey Jude" to her while she dozed, and Lori had walked in on him with a smug smile and folded arms.

"Judith it is, then."

 

 

Carol was an unstoppable force when it came to seeing the baby. A week after Lori came home she took Judith and Daryl to one of the group meets again. Everyone cooed over the baby – of course they did, she was gorgeous just like her momma. Thank God she hadn't gotten any of Shane's features. Daryl laughed when Michonne outright said that, and Lori just rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"Carol," Daryl murmured, taking her to one side while everyone was fawning over the baby and Maggie was making pointed looks at Glenn while the nervous Alpha shifted in his seat. She hummed, taking a sip of her latte and turning towards him as they took a small table off to one side away from the main section of the group. "I wanted to ask you about somethin'."

"Go ahead, Pookie, I'm all ears," she replied.

Daryl cleared his throat and drummed his fingernails on the table. "What would you do if you knew a kid was in trouble?" he asked. Carol raised an eyebrow at him. "Like…like the kind of trouble you and Sophia used to be in."

At once Carol's eyes hardened. "Bring the son of a bitch down," she said flatly, taking another nonchalant sip. "Any way I knew how. You know any lawyers?"

Daryl snorted and shook his head.

"Well, I do. Her name's Andrea and she's a firecracker. You get your cop friend on it with her and I think they could put the guy away."

"Don't they need a formal complaint? From the kid or the mother or something?"

Carol shook her head. "Maybe, but not for an initial investigation. You could do it, I'm pretty sure. Or Shane could. I know he doesn't work in child services but Andrea does, and if I gave you her number you could probably get her directly involved."

Daryl sighed. "My phone's gone," he said. "Dropped it in the park when Lori went into labor."

"Well then I'll give the number to Lori," Carol said with another shrug.

"That'd be great," Daryl said, biting his thumbnail. "Thanks."

Carol leaned forward and swatted him on the wrist until he stopped. "Don't mention it, Pookie. I'm here to help."

 

 

_The monsters were everywhere. They'd been walking and running for what felt like days, and the heat was beating down on them from above as though the sun had a personal vendetta against their heads and shoulders. It was so fucking humid; he'd started to sweat just as he'd stepped outside. Not that air conditioning worked anymore anyway. There was no escape from the oppressive heat._

_Thirst burned at his throat but he offered the last of the water to his son and his mate, because they could keep going without him. They'd survive._

_His mate handed the water to Carl. Carl drank quickly, but only a few swallows so there was some left for his parents. Behind them the monsters were groaning and grunting, dumb beasts driven by the single need to kill and consume._

_But were they any better? Slogging along from one place to another, never safe, never content._

_His mate huffed a short laugh, looking behind him. "They're tired," he said, his eyes bright above his red cheeks, his hair dark and slick and curly from sweat. His clothes were yellowy with it, and clung to his body in a way that would be attractive if not for the situation. Daryl licked his lips and kept his eyes forward. He didn't want to look at them._

_"They're going to catch us," he said quietly._

_"Nah." His mate stretched his arms above his head, baring a sliver of stomach before he rested his arms back down by his sides. "Not if we just keep moving. We'll get there."_

_"Get where?" Daryl huffed, anger making his voice sharp. "Where are we going?"_

_His mate smiled at him, that lopsided, mischievous smile. Like they weren't being hunted. Like everything was okay._

When Daryl woke, he was annoyed. His dreams weren't making any fucking sense anymore. Nightmares, he understood. Dreams of death and decay and blood _everywhere_ , he got. Dreams of his daddy's silhouette in his door and belt lashes across his back, those were perfectly understandable.

This weird psychological clusterfuck that was his dreams wasn't doing him any favors, and it pissed him off to no end that his dream-mate had started to become as cryptically optimistic as the machine had been.

"I'm going fucking insane," he muttered, shoving himself to his feet. Carl was still asleep – it was three in the fucking morning, Christ – and so Daryl was quiet as he padded out to the kitchen to get himself something to eat. There was leftover pizza from an unknowable amount of time ago, and Daryl contemplated just how much of his sense of time he was losing as he munched on a frozen slice.

His computer was open and hibernating, the little white light blinking slowly to let him know it was ready to play. Daryl sighed heavily through his nose and went over to it, swiping one greasy finger across the track pad to get it to come out of sleep.

He froze when it did so, the black screen clearing to that familiar ANGAL blue. It didn't have a greeting for him and for a moment he was stuck, his breath frozen in his lungs, before he sat down on the bar stool and tilted the screen, thinking that by some weird coincidence changing the angle of it might make the color go away.

It didn't. It even flickered softly in that oh-so-familiar way.

Daryl swallowed hard and set the piece of pizza down, half-eaten and forgotten. He shoved his finger down against the power button, suffocating the thing into off mode, and then powered it back on. When it came back it was the normal password screen, and Daryl shook his head and entered in his password.

He _was_ going insane.

Everything was blank since he had restarted it, and as he was going through his programs and opening everything back up, he noticed a little icon in the toolbar at the bottom right of the screen. It looked like a little green speech bubble and had the number one next to it, like a new chat message. But that icon wasn't like any chat window Daryl was familiar with, even the low-tech hacker-looking shit his contact in Argentina used.

Cautiously, ready to turn the damn thing off again if he needed to and wipe its whole hard drive, he clicked on it.

A little window came up like the chat windows used in customer service sections of websites. There was no space for a name, or contact information like an email or phone number. Then, someone started typing. There was no name there, either, just a little row of dots that pulsed gently indicating someone on the other side was writing a message.

_Are you Daryl Dixon?_

Daryl straightened on the stool, his fingers flexing. "Okay…" he said, stretching the word out until he ran out of breath to keep saying it. Not that this wasn't exactly the plot of every stupid Hollywood spy flick ever created.

Daryl was going crazy.

His fingers flexed again, and he rested his fingers on the keyboard for a long moment, before he typed out;

_Who's asking?_

_A friend._

Daryl frowned.

_Not good enough. Who the fuck are you?_

The pulsating ellipsis was there for a long time after that.

_He said you might be hostile. I want to show you something._

A little video camera icon popped up next to the message. Daryl promptly closed it.

_No. Who the FUCK are you? How do you know me?_

_Like I said, I'm a friend._

_You got a name?_

Again, the typing symbol was there for a long while, to the point where Daryl was growing impatient. He thought about closing down his computer and wiping the damn thing on principle, but just as he had made the decision to do so, a message appeared;

_You have to understand; I'm taking a great risk doing this. And I don't think that you will believe what I am about to say. I would rather show you._

_No._

Daryl shut down his computer immediately after that, stepping away from his laptop with a feeling like spiders had been crawling up his spine. He picked up the half-eaten piece of pizza and tried to distract himself by eating it, but the fact of the matter was he was awake now and there wasn't a soul alive who could distract him again.

He tried to go back to sleep, but his bedroom seemed so much darker without that blue glow. Still, he was a stubborn son of a bitch and determined not to go back to his computer, so he burrowed under his covers and wrapped himself in them so tightly that it would be a fight to untangle himself.

This was the kind of shit that could definitely wait for a reasonable hour to deal with.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so it was pointed out to me that I made Bob both the Principal and Lori's doctor??? And I'm pretty sure I made Andrea both Philip's lawyer and the woman Carol mentions?? I'm not good at remembering character assignments, clearly, but if you're willing to overlook it then so am I. Bob will be the Principal from here on out, and Andrea will be the lawyer Carol mentions from here on out as well. My bad, guys!
> 
> If that wasn't proof I don't beta-read, then I don't know what to tell you at this point haha.

When Daryl woke up, he had officially gone from Freaked Out and Annoyed to Very Annoyed and Kind of Worried. Because when he woke up, the screen was back on. It was pulsating that generic blue, the familiar ' _Hello Daryl_ ' sitting on the screen in white letters.

He scrambled upright, pulling the sheets away from his body as he tried to reach for the screen. "What the fuck," he whispered, softly but with a lot of feeling, and pulled it onto his lap. When he swiped at the thing he didn't see any trace of the machine's consciousness, but it was _on,_ and it was _back_.

"Dad!"

Carl knocked frantically on his door before busting in. His eyes were whine and shone brightly in the light of the screen.

"The TV…I didn't…"

"What's going on?" Daryl asked, screen clutched tightly in his hand as he got up and followed Carl out into the living room. The TV was showing the same blue, glowing gently and white around the edges. It was split into four screens. One was the home movie that Daryl and Carl had been watching before. The second was of the forest path that it had manifested so that it could speak to them. The third was black. The fourth…

Daryl squinted, stepping forward. The fourth showed a room that Daryl had never seen. It looked like a lab or the inside of some underground bunker. There was a table in the middle of it and it looked like there was something on the table but from the angle of the camera Daryl could only see a corner. It looked like there was something on it, but it was covered by a sheet so he couldn't see any details. There was a thin bar of light about a foot from the ceiling of the bunker and the camera also showed a desk, the computer at it with a black screen, the chair neatly tucked in.

In his hand, the screen chirped. When Daryl looked down at it the screen was black as though it had lost power, and with a frustrated huff he tossed it onto the couch.

"Turn it off," he said, grabbing the remote and powering off the monitor. For good measure he reached to the side of the thing and unplugged it, too. "No TV for a while, Carl," he told his wide-eyed son, who nodded, hat flopping dangerously on his head. "Not until I figure out what the fuck's happening."

"What _is_ happening?" Carl asked as Daryl went back to his laptop, opening it and turning it on.

"I don't know," Daryl replied, rubbing his hand over his mouth. This was insane. But now it was getting dangerous – if this mysterious person could get into his own _home_ , through the wires and machines that kept this place running (Daryl's own fucking turf, too, the rude-ass bitch), then who knew what else they would be capable of.

 _A friend._ Yeah, not fucking likely. Not in Daryl's experience, anyway.

The little speech bubble was there when the computer powered on but when Daryl clicked on it, there was no pulsating ellipsis and no other messages. He frowned, his fingers tapping gently on the keys for a second, before he wrote;

_I don't know what the fuck you think you're playing at, but if you don't back off I'm going to hunt you down._

He nodded to himself, before closing the computer. Swift and to the point, just how he liked his threats. Also vague. Which was perfect, because right now there were a couple of different and creative ways Daryl could think of to kill a man and hide the body.

Shane would probably help him if he told him about it.

Shane. And Lori. Should he tell them about this? The last time he'd opened up about all the machine drama, he'd felt like he had lost his head and his family all in one. There was a darkness about this machine – it came in and damaged everything. Already it had driven Daryl to the point where he thought he was losing it more than once, and then decided to leave just when Daryl had thought maybe he could deal with everything?

Fuck that. Fuck the A.N.G.A.L. system. Fuck Shane for buying it for him. Fuck Philip fucking Blake for making the damn thing.

"Dad…" Carl's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned to the Alpha. Carl's face was still purple from the hit Ron had given him, fading out to green around the edge. Every time Daryl looked at it he wanted to go hunt down Ron's piece of shit dad and show him what a real beating looked like. "What if it's…what if it's the machine?"

Daryl frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What if he's -." Carl bit his lip and looked down, fidgeting with his hands in front of his chest. "What if Dad's trying to come back?"

Daryl tried not to show any visible reaction to that, even though his throat got tight and his hand turned into a fist at his side. He wanted to say so many things in response to that. Bitter, angry things that he shouldn't say to his kid.

_If he wanted to come back, he shouldn't have left._

But the truth was Daryl didn't have that kind of hate in his heart. Not for most people, and definitely not for his mate or any facsimile of the man. But he had to believe that if it _was_ the machine trying to come back, it wouldn't do it like this. Daryl's firewalls were strong and his defenses many, but the machine could come and go as it pleased. Daryl believed that. He _had_ to.

"If it is, then it will," he said instead of what he wanted to say, reaching forward and pushing Carl's hat back so that it ended up dangling by the string around his neck, so that he could ruffle the kid's dirty hair. "I've left it open for it to come back. I've….maybe it is, but this guy…" He looked back at the computer and shook his head. "This guy ain't the system. He's someone else. You gotta be careful, okay? You feel anythin' setting your instincts off, you let me know. Someone followin' you, watching you, anything, okay?"

Carl nodded again, his face solemn. "Yeah. Promise."

 

 

 

Daryl didn't tell Shane, and he didn't tell Lori. They didn't need to worry about him any more than they did. And he tried, for them. He left the house for more than food and to pick Carl up from school. He stayed with her and Judith whenever he could – he loved that little girl more than he could ever say, as though she was his own.

The thoughts had crossed his mind before. Of course they had. No one was alone for five years without thinking about….about other stuff. Finding another mate. Trying to be happy with another person. But every time he had brought himself to think about that shit his heart would feel shriveled and rotten, his head would hurt, like his entire _being_ rejected the idea of taking another mate. His heart, his _soul_ belonged to his mate, it probably always would.

But was this…the same thing? Was letting this machine come back into his life and take on his mate's voice and face and mannerisms the same as taking another? It _wasn't_ his mate, the machine at least knew that much and could admit that much, but that didn't mean Daryl wouldn't still fall head over heels and throw himself on his own sword for that.

Daryl hadn't paid much attention in school but he knew basic biology. He knew about the hormones and the bonds that tied Alphas to their mates, be they Omega or women. It was different between the three sexes but the result was the same – it was a powerful connection. Some couples could even go so far as to be in tune with each other's emotions and feelings, down to being able to sense when the other was in danger or sad.

Daryl hadn't had that with his mate. Or maybe he hadn't allowed himself to feel it, because his mate had a dangerous job and Daryl already loved him so much it hurt when they were apart. To allow himself to sink into his mate's emotions or, even worse, run the risk of distracting his mate with his own offered too high a price for Daryl to pay. But he'd paid it anyway. Because that was the Dixon curse, wasn't it? To love, and to lose.

He was broken out of his thoughts by a sharp rap on the door, accompanied by the familiar alert-now shriek of Judith. She was still a very quiet baby and usually only made noise when she was _very_ uncomfortable in the diaper area or had just woken up and wanted everyone else to be aware of that fact. Unbidden a smile came to his face as he stood and made his way over to the door.

Lori's face was stormy as she walked into the apartment and threw something at Daryl's chest. He barely caught it, looking down with a raised eyebrow as he turned the object over in his hands.

"You got me a new phone?" he asked.

" _No_ ," Lori hissed. "Someone dropped it off outside of my door and it kept ringing. Woke Judith up at three in the fucking morning, too."

Daryl frowned, his eyes flashing to the TV, and then to his laptop. "Someone came to your place at three in the morning?"

Lori huffed, rubbing a hand over her face. She looked tired. "Did I fucking stutter, Dixon? _Yes_."

"And that doesn't….seem weird?"

Lori frowned at him, her dark eyes giving him a once-over as though just realizing that something was a little off about him. As though there was some physical mark on his face that gave him away. "What's going on?" she asked, shifting Judith on her hip to a more comfortable position. The baby's big eyes blinked at Daryl from between her halo of blankets and she let out a soft burble, little fist flailing.

Before Daryl could answer, the phone started to ring in his hands. It was a loud ringtone, a generic one that wasn't the one Daryl had set to be his own. He glared down at the thing, looking at the unknown number as it flashed across his screen.

"762 number, right?" Lori asked, and Daryl nodded. "I Googled it. It's a Woodbury number."

Daryl frowned. What the fuck was someone doing calling him from _Woodbury_? And why the Hell was that town name so familiar?

"Answer it," Lori hissed, voice rough with impatience. "It's gonna keep calling if you don't."

"I think I know who it is," Daryl said, choosing instead to push on the volume until the phone went silent, and placing it on the counter. "Well, not _who_ , exactly, but…"

Lori raised an eyebrow. "But…what?"

"Someone's been trying to contact me," Daryl said with a shake of his head. "Been fuckin' with my shit, too. Calls themselves a friend, but I don't -. It's fucked up. I feel like I'm being watched, poked at." Lori cocked her head to one side and Daryl gave a helpless shrug. "I can't explain it. But it's just…weird. The screen turned back on. And I feel like – I feel like somethin's happenin'. The day Judy was born I thought I'd found a trace of – of the machine. But I lost it. And now this is…"

Lori worried her lower lip between her teeth, and heaved a sigh. She walked over and grabbed the phone. The first call had gone to voicemail and now it was ringing again, silent, but with the screen bright and the little cartoon phone icon moving.

"Answer it, Daryl," she urged. "Please?"

Daryl sighed, taking the phone from her, and flipped it open.

"Hello?" he asked, pushing the speaker button. For a second there was only silence on the other end, then;

"Is this Daryl Dixon?"

The voice was quiet and nervous – not what Daryl expected, though truth be told he wasn't sure what he expected. Maybe a voice modifier with all the super creepy spy shit going on. Maybe the voice of a cold, hardened man. Not this guy.

"Yeah," he grunted back when he realized he hadn't replied. Judith let out another burble and Lori moved away from the phone, shushing the baby but giving Daryl a look that meant he better keep the fucker talking if he knew what was good for him.

Daryl cleared his throat, shifted his weight, and leaned on the counter as he set the phone down. "You the guy that's been fucking with me?" he said, trying to make himself sound nonchalant but at the same time like he'd be perfectly capable of stabbing the guy through the phone. He wasn't sure how well he pulled it off.

At that, the other man let out a nervous chuckle. "Yes. I, ah, got your message. You're very candid, Mr. Dixon."

"You can call me an asshole, it's okay," Daryl replied. There was something about the man's voice that was so fucking familiar, it was driving him crazy. _Woodbury_. "Who are you?"

"I am a friend."

"Yeah, that don't look so good in my contacts, _friend_."

"It would be best if you didn't save this number," the man said quickly, sounding more nervous. "I will be calling you from another number should I need to reach out again, I expect."

Daryl frowned. Okay, officially getting back into creepy spy territory. "Do I know you?" he asked.

"I doubt it," the man replied. "I certainly don't know you."

"Then what the fuck?" Daryl hissed. "What are you doing, gettin' into my computer, fucking with my TV so my kid sees whatever fucked up torture dungeon you got goin' –."

"My lab?" the man said, sounding panicked. "You have seen the lab?"

"I -."

"I told you not to do anything!" the man said, but his voice was distant now, as though he, too, had been on speaker phone and was moving away from the thing to yell at someone else. "You're meddling again! I told you this takes _tact_ and -."

"I know him," another voice said. And _that voice_ …

Well, that was the voice that haunted Daryl's dreams and followed his daily thoughts. That was the voice he kept locked away in his bedroom closet, the voice he had let out and integrated into his system and the voice that he could hear every now and again in his Alpha son and it was -.

"Daryl." The voice – _his voice, holy shit, it was his voice_ – came closer and Daryl heard a sound like a phone being picked up. Daryl was shell shocked, frozen. Unable to move. He felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, and as though everything had turned cold. "Daryl, I know you're there. Talk to me."

"Stop it!" That was the other man's voice again, high-pitched and frantic. "Let go of the phone, Rick, you're going to scare him."

"I wouldn't -." And then Daryl hung up. It was too much to deal with – hearing this _man_ , this man who he didn't know but could get into his house and into his life and plant himself there, hearing this man say his mate's name, talk to a thing he had given his mate's voice – it was too fucking much. Daryl snapped the phone closed and shoved it hard enough off the counter that it shattered against the wall and fell to the floor.

At the noise, Judith let out an unhappy shriek and Daryl turned to her. He saw Lori, her eyes wide and wet with tears, and he was sure her expression mirrored his own. It was like they had both been dropped into the ocean, tugged under by chains around their necks, drowning.

Daryl tried to sit, but he missed the stool and ended up sliding to the floor. His hands went to his hair, knotting, tugging his fingers through it. He _ached_ for a cigarette. He wanted to feel it burn his mouth, tingle in his throat, singe his lungs. He wanted to feel the red-hot heart of it pressed against his thumb like he used to when he was a kid. When he was younger and the belt had struck a little too many times in one spot, or the eyes of his mother got a little too dead, or Merle got a little too loud, he'd find a sanctuary somewhere and smoke, and when the cigarette was done and he could pull no more nicotine or tar from it, he'd crush it against his hands just to let it burn him. He still had a scar in the skin between his thumb and forefinger from his teenage years. The first time his mate had seen it and really understood what it meant, he'd kissed the skin there, and then just below, and across Daryl's wrist and up each finger until they tickled. It had been a tender night that night.

Daryl sucked in a deep breath and turned his face to the ceiling. Lori was next to him, sitting with him on the floor with their back to the half-wall separating the kitchen and the living room, a bar stool on either side like some kind of blockade. Judith lay quietly in her lap, staring up at them with the same chocolate eyes as her mother.

Daryl heaved another breath, unsteady and loud. His eyes burned and he knew he was crying – hot, ugly lines of tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn't stop them. He didn't want to stop them. It felt like he had cried more in the last few months than the days since his mate died.

His hands wouldn't move from his head so he kept them there, elbows braced on his knees, curled up as though expecting a blow from his daddy's silhouette. The shadows on the door were ominous now – that man had _come here_ , and had somehow made it…made it real again. Or it was a trick. Some elaborate trick.

But who would do that?

Who would _dare_?

Daryl gasped, his lungs aching loudly in his chest, his heart hammering. His shoulders shook and he couldn't breathe. Was this a panic attack? He hadn't had one in so long, he'd almost forgotten what they felt like.

Lori sat with him, her small hand warm on his thigh. She didn't speak. She sat like a guardian to Daryl's grief, a willowy statue for him to bare himself for, an empty room for him to scream into and know he was being heard, somewhere.

When he felt like he could get his breath back, he was dizzy and tired to the soul. He looked up again, his face tacky with tears, his eyes burning.

"Don't tell Carl," he whispered, his voice broken and hoarse.

Her hand tightened on his thigh, and her lips thinned out in a line. "I won't, Daryl. I promise."


	16. Chapter 16

Daryl was shell shocked for hours after that phone call. Thank God it had happened while Carl was at school, because he had no idea how he was going to explain any of this to his son. What even was there to say?

There was something walking around out there with his mate's voice. Someone had created something that could pick up a phone and argue with him with his mate's voice. The system had disappeared and then weeks, _months_ later, this strange man with such a familiar voice and location reached out to him, in possession of this thing that had his mate's voice.

How the fuck was he even meant to start talking about this Carl? And not even Carl, but Shane and Lori as well? Lori had been there; she'd _heard_ his mate's voice. She'd heard it, and Daryl knew how much she missed the man. He wouldn't put it past her to try and do something herself. Which Daryl couldn’t let her do. He had to protect her and shield her from this bullshit. It's what he _should_ do. This was his own fucking mess and now he needed to clean it up.

Lori went with him to the store to get a new phone. He canceled his old plan straight out and started up a new one with a new number, and Lori gave him her number, Shane's, Carl's school, Michonne's, Carol's and the lawyer's number that Carol had given her. It was a simple phone with none of the fancy touch screen or wifi shit. He didn't want anyone getting into it without being able to actually touch the damn thing, and he vowed to keep him with it at all times.

Honestly the part that freaked him out the most was that the guy had managed to get into their apartment building and put the phone there for Lori to find. The fact that he put it in front of _Lori's_ door and not his meant one of two things – either the machine had told him to put it in front of Lori's door on purpose, or he didn't exactly know where Daryl lived but knew where the building Alpha lived.

Which was…well, it was pretty fucking not okay. Daryl's protective instincts ran deep and struck hard and he loved Lori like a sister and Shane like a brother, and the idea that someone was dragging them into his personal shit and potentially putting them in danger (because nothing about this was safe) made his hackles rise and made him want to bare his teeth in a snarl.

There was a third option. One that Daryl didn't really want to think about. If this machine could walk and talk, then it could have come here itself. It could have purposely chosen _not_ to put the phone in front of Daryl's door. It could have chosen not to bring the phone at all, but to have simply shown up.

The thought of seeing – of seeing that _thing_ – and how realistic was it? How close to his face would it be? How would its skin feel, how would its eyes look? _Fuck_.

Daryl's head snapped up. Someone could have _seen_ it.

He ran out of his apartment and down the stairs to Shane and Lori's apartment. He knocked quietly, not wanting to wake Judith if she was asleep, and a few moments later he heard shuffling from inside and Shane opened the door. His expression was weary and hard, like he'd just finishing with a very long, bad case. He looked hollow, almost, as though someone had taken all of his mass and left a translucent shell behind.

Daryl frowned. "Are you okay?"

Shane nodded. "Lori told me what happened," he said, and Daryl felt like all the air had been punched out of him. Yes, he'd asked her not to tell Carl, but he'd thought she would also understand that he didn't want Shane to know either. But of course Shane had to know – he was her Alpha, he was the _building_ Alpha. Of course he had to know.

Shane's eyes flickered red and gave Daryl a once-over, before he stepped out of the apartment and closed the door behind him. It wasn't that early in the morning, but maybe Lori and Judith were asleep. "She said that…that you heard his voice. That is was him."

He rubbed a hand over his mouth when Daryl nodded. His eyes were burning – either gold, or tears, he wasn't sure. "It was his voice," Daryl said, his voice hoarse. "It was….it was his voice."

"Fuck." Shane leaned back against the door, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. In that moment, he looked paper thin, like Daryl could poke a hole straight through his chest. When Daryl's mate had died, Daryl's loss could only realistically be matched by Shane's. They had never talked about it, not really – at first they were both too raw, and then it became too long since it had happened to bring it up again. But for the first time Daryl thought that maybe he and Lori weren't the only ones who might need something like that support group. Shane had to be strong all the time, even with the loss of his brother, but he shouldn't have to be. Daryl had never seen the man so upset.

"I…" Daryl hesitated, biting his lower lip, before he lifted his thumb to his mouth to chew on the cuticle instead. "I was wonderin' if you could get access to the building's security camera," he said.

Shane lifted his head, his eyebrows raised. "I mean…probably. Why?"

"Because there's another man, that was…that was with the machine. And one of them came here and left that phone. And I need to know…. I need to know."

And that was what it came down to. He _needed_ to know. Because it was either the android – a walking, talking version, a _mockery_ of his mate. Or it was the other man, and Daryl needed to see his face. He was sure that if he saw his face, everything else would fall into place because he _knew_ the guy's voice, he knew the town _Woodbury_ for _some_ reason, and it was driving him crazy.

Shane pressed his lips together and nodded. "There's a room in the basement with a computer that the outside camera feeds into. I can get us in there. Come on," he said, and began walking down the stairs. Daryl followed. He knew that there was a camera at the entrance to the building, and it was operated and monitored by a third-party company that had workers in the maintenance room and monitored it. The idea of it being a kind of security was laughable, but Shane was a cop and the building Alpha so Daryl had no doubt that, if there _was_ anything on that camera footage, Shane would be able to get access to it.

There was another door that led to the laundry room in the building past the foyer, and it had a corridor that also opened to the maintenance room. Daryl followed Shane down the corridor and past the laundry room. Shane knocked at the door once they reached it.

The door opened to reveal a man, who raised his eyebrow and gave Shane and Daryl an unimpressed look. "Can I help you?"

"I need to see the footage from last night," Shane said. "I'm the Alpha of this building."

The man's unimpressed expression didn't change. "I'm gonna need to see some identification," he said. Shane rolled his eyes. "Sorry, man, it's policy."

"Fine, Jesus," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He flashed his ID and badge at the guy, who made a show of grabbing the wallet and carefully looking over his ID, before handing it back with a nod. "Can we go in now?"

"Sure, Mr. Walsh." He stepped back and let Shane and Daryl enter the room, and Daryl let out a snort at the setup. It looked like something straight out of a nineties heist movie, complete with box TV monitor with white lines moving up across the screen, and video cassette recorders set up around it.

At least it would be harder to mess with, from a high-tech hacker point of view. This was the kind of man who could get into Daryl's computer and start to message him without prompting or permission. Although now Daryl suspected that the android must have helped him with that. After all, the machine knew Daryl's system from the inside and had probably left some kind of back door for it to get back into and fuck with his stuff.

He clenched his fist, cursing his carelessness. That footprint he'd found – that must have been in. A back door in the code for the machine to come back. Which meant that whatever was happening now, it had _planned it_. It had up and left and, what? Found a man to give it a body? All for what?

Oh, Daryl was going to start stabbing people if he didn't get some answers soon.

"We need footage from Sunday night," Shane finally said, snapping Daryl out of his thoughts. The security guard raised an eyebrow and went over to the shelves, taking down four video cassettes.

"Here you go," he said, handing them to Daryl. "Three hours each. Covers the whole night."

Shane snorted. "Tapes? C'mon, man, no one's got a tape player anymore."

"I do," Daryl said, holding the taped carefully and cradling them to his chest. "Carl still likes watchin' the old Disney movies and shit that – that we recorded for 'im. So I have one." He turned back to the security guard and nodded. "Thank you."

The guard shrugged. "Nothin' much to report, just normal comings and goings. Hope whatever's on there is more interesting than my night was."

Daryl gave him another nod, and they left with a promise to return the tapes as soon as possible. Daryl managed to not run all the way up to his apartment, but it was a close call. He was jittery and angry and excited all at once – this was the first real thing that could point him in the direction of some answers. Finally, he might get something like…closure? Whatever. He'd take a good knife to whoever deserved its face instead.

The video tape player was tucked away in a box in the living room closet, and he pulled it out and dusted it off with a few haphazard swipes of his hand. Then he walked over and set the tapes down on the table while he got to work setting the tapes up to plug into the TV.

Shane grabbed the TV remote and Daryl lifted his hand before he could turn it on.

"I wanna warn you," he said, nodding to the remote. "Last time the TV was on; we saw…like a feed. Into this guy's lab or whatever. Didn't see the machine, but he's gotten into this system too, so I don't know what you're gonna see."

Shane pressed his lips together, eyeing the remote in his hand, before he took a deep breath and turned it on. The screen was the normal blue of a screen on the wrong input, and Daryl wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. Maybe both.

He finished hooking up the VHS player and held out a hand for one. "Lori came to me 'round seven in the morning," he said. "Said the phone hadn't stopped ringin' and woke her up. Figure he probably would have been there, like, an hour before callin'? I mean, that time of day, people are going to start notice you if you're in the building, or a phone outside the door."

Shane nodded, perching on the coffee table and leafing through the tapes. "These aren't labeled with the times," he said with a frown. "But they'll probably be timestamped once we start playing them."

"Good," Daryl said. "Gimme one."

Shane hesitated, heaving a sigh. "What do you think we're gonna see on these, Daryl?" he asked, lifting his head. "I gotta ask."

Daryl sighed, sitting back on his heels, and ran a hand through his hair. "Way I see it," he said slowly, "is there's one of two options. I'm either gonna see the guy who's calling me, or I'm gonna see…the machine."

"Who talks like Rick," Shane whispered. "You think it might look like him, too?"

Daryl closed his eyes, sighing. "God, I really fucking hope not," he said, before opening his eyes and looking at Shane. "I don't – honest, man, I'm not sure how I'd fucking react at this point. I feel…thin. Stretched. I don't know what I'm gonna do. I just…right now I'm just kinda hopin' it's the guy. When I talked to him, he sounded familiar. And he had a Woodbury phone number."

Shane frowned. "A guy…from Woodbury called you?"

Daryl nodded. "Lori didn't mention that?"

Shane shook his head, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and grabbed one of the tapes. He fidgeted with it, lifting it up and down in his hand for a second, before he handed it to Daryl to put into the player. "We need to watch these," he said, heaving a sigh. "I can't promise how I'm gonna react either, but we gotta know."

Daryl nodded. That, at least, they could agree on.

He pushed in the tape and let it come up on the screen. The picture was downright sinful with how bad of quality it was and Daryl winced, forcing himself to squint and suffer through the grainy feed as he watched people coming and going.

"It's timestamped at the bottom," Shane said, leaning forward and pointing. "Nine. This tape isn't the one."

Daryl nodded and pressed 'Eject', before putting in the next one Shane offered. That one started at six at night, so that wasn't the one. Then, Shane handed him the third.

"This one starts at three in the morning," Daryl murmured, nodding to the time. "So, I mean, it'll probably be towards the end of the tape that we see the guy, right?"

Shane nodded. "Fast forward."

Daryl fast-forwarded the tape until it hit five thirty in the morning, before he sat back so they could watch. The camera angle only showed a small circumference of the front door and down one way on the street. Daryl would bet his last dime that the man (or the machine) had come from the opposite direction. After all, the machine had intimate knowledge of this building's layout and how it worked. It could have told the other man everything it could to make sure he would pass by unseen.

They watched for what felt like hours, and Daryl watched the time ticking closer and closer to six, until suddenly Shane reached forward and grabbed his shoulder.

"There," he said, pointing to the screen. The timestamp said five fifty-seven in the morning.

"Almost an hour," Daryl murmured. "He has to be about an hour from us – that's. That's Woodbury distance, right?"

Shane lifted his eyes as he thought. "I think so? Not sure how big the town is. But it's…I mean, Daryl, you know Woodbury is the town where that A.N.G.A.L. guy's headquarters is, right?"

Daryl paused the tape and turned to look at Shane, his eyes wide. "What?" he asked, mentally thinking back to the news report that Shane had showed him about the system. What was the guy's name? "You mean…it could be that Blake guy?"

Shane looked up at the tape and his eyes widened. "Holy shit, Daryl, look," he said, gesturing towards the screen again. Daryl turned around to look, and he let out a loud, startled breath.

The man was not Blake. It wasn't an android either, and bore no resemblance to his mate.

"Is that…?"

"Milton Mamet," Shane said. "Blake's right-hand man. It's him."

Daryl pushed himself up onto his knees so he could scoot closer for a better look. The picture was grainy, and he could only see half of the man's face because of the way the camera was pointed, but it was…. He recognized the way the man stood, the inward curl of his shoulders, the shine of his glasses in the street light.

"Fuck," he whispered, sitting back. Then, he frowned, running a hand through his hair. "What the fuck is an A.N.G.A.L. guy doing calling me, and being with – with that thing?"

Shane's eyes were dark, his expression carefully guarded. "It has a body," he said. "It has a body now, and that guy," he pointed at the image of Milton on the screen, "probably built it." He folded his hands together, elbows braced so they hung between his knees. Then, he sighed, and looked up. "What exactly did they say? On the phone?"

Daryl chewed the inside of his lower lip, thinking back. "The guy – Milton – said that he wanted to show me something, at first. When I refused, he called me on the phone. Then, he was saying how he'd call me from different numbers, and when I demanded to know what his name was or who he was he wouldn't say. I told him about the feed on the TV and he got…freaked out. Started yelling at someone else. Then the machine picked up, and Milton said it would 'scare him', I guess that meant me. Then I hung up."

Shane's eyes narrowed. "So he got mad that the machine showed you his lab."

Daryl shrugged one shoulder. "It's…always tried to get close to me. Maybe it thought it could catch me by surprise and I'd see it in a body."

Shane cocked his head to one side, lifting his hands to rest his chin on his knuckles. "Wait, what?" he asked, his voice carefully quiet. Like he was interrogating someone. Daryl got the distinct impression that he had just let something major slip. "It tried to get close to you? How?"

 _Shit_. Daryl sighed, closing his eyes. He had tried to hide it from Shane and Lori as best he could, but that clearly hadn't worked out well for him in the past. It was time to come clean, even though it would hurt and likely lose him his close bond with his pack Alpha. He had no idea how Shane would react.

"It claimed to love me," he said. "It…it did more than just take on his voice, Shane. It mimicked him. It found videos and learned how he moved, and how he spoke, and how he looked. And I fought it, I did. _You aren't him_ , I would tell the thing, _stop trying to replace him_. But it didn't listen." He opened his eyes and shook his head. "It wanted a body. I guess it finally found someone who would give it to him."

Shane didn't reply for a moment. Then two. Then ten. For what felt like an hour, he was silent, just staring at some point on the floor. Occasionally his eyes would flash red, but other than that he didn't move at all. It was eerie, his silence, his stillness. Daryl's made had such powerful silences, but Shane was meant to be heard. He didn't bring silence to a room, he cured it.

"…Shane?" Daryl finally hazarded after too long had passed. His voice was little more than a whisper.

Shane shook his head. His shoulders heaved, as though he hadn't breathed the entire time he was quiet, and he lifted his head to look at the TV screen.

"I think," he finally said, "that we need to pay this guy a visit."

Daryl's eyes widened. "You wanna go to him?"

Shane nodded. "I have to see this. With my own eyes."

Daryl turned around to look at the screen again, before he pressed his lips together and nodded. "Alright," he said, pushing himself to his feet.

Shane nodded, too. "I'm gonna tell Lori. Meet me in the car," he said, before he left the apartment. Daryl went to his bedroom and changed into clothes more suitable for the outside weather, and pushed his feet into his boots as he walked out the door, grabbing his keys and phone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited about this chapter! I hope you guys like it as much as I liked writing it.

The drive to Woodbury was, in a word, uneventful. Still, Daryl felt each mile as though he had been driving for a full hour. It couldn't have taken longer than an hour with the morning traffic, _maybe_ an hour and a half at a stretch. By the time they reached the outskirts of the town, completely with a picturesque _Woodbury Welcomes You!_ sign the sun had tinted the sky a light gray and the air was full of the sounds of children as they walked down the pathways to school, and mothers out in their gardens, and engines starting up as people made their way to work.

Shane snorted, his mouth twisting in displeasure. "Feels like I'm living in the fifties," he said.

Daryl turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "How you figure?"

Shane just made another ugly sound. "All it's missing is a damn ice cream truck," was all he said in reply, turning on his signal as he pulled into the left-hand turn lane at the first four-way stop of the town. Daryl did have to admit that the whole scene felt very…staged. It was quaint and perfect, the kind of small town that he had only ever seen in movies or on television. It was nothing like the city in which he, Shane and Lori lived.

There was only one building that went higher than two stories, jutting up, huge and black against the gray sky. It had ANGAL down the side in big white letters and Daryl looked up at it with a strange sense of foreboding.

"Think Blake's compensating for something?" he muttered.

Shane shook his head, laughing quietly. "Guy builds 'em that big then spies on Omegas, I'm willin' to bet he's got more than a few screws loose. You think Milton's in there?"

Daryl shook his head. "I don't think he'd risk doin' something like this right under Blake's nose. He's probably somewhere else."

Shane nodded to himself, pressing his lips together as he pressed on the gas and smoothly made the left-hand turn. "Well," he began, looking around, "this place doesn't look very big at all. We start asking questions, we're gonna draw attention to ourselves."

Daryl nodded in agreement. There was a certain way they had to play this – and, depending on how paranoid Milton was and how vigilant the machine was being in keeping tabs on Daryl, Shane and Lori, it was pretty likely that Milton already knew they were here. Or at least someone knew they were here. He chewed on the inside of his lower lip as he thought. Shane drove on in silence until they found a small, mostly empty parking lot outside of a church and Shane killed the engine.

He tried to think what he would do if he was Milton. The second-hand man to a guy under intense legal scrutiny right now and under investigation for a mass invasion of privacy towards already at-risk Omegas. As an Omega himself, Daryl couldn't imagine playing a part in that kind of scandal and deception. He imagined Milton would be taking it hard as well.

He turned his head to look out of the front of Shane's car. The church was all in white, brown towards the bottom where rain and mud had sullied the siding and turned it more a dark brown-gray color. There were two windows framing each side of the yellow door, which was covered in fliers and announcements for the church. There was a single steeple arching up above their ends that ended in a sharp point, a wooden cross raised up above that.

"How many churches do you think there are in Woodbury?" he asked.

Shane raised his eyebrows, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he thought. "I mean, it's a small place," he said with a one-shouldered shrug. "But it's also Georgia."

Daryl hummed, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Stay in here," he said, holding out his hand when Shane made to follow. "I'll be right back."

Shane made an unhappy sound. "What are you doing to do?"

Daryl didn't answer. In truth, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. But there was something about the church that was calling to him, and so with his shoulders hunched in and his head down, he walked up to it and quickly went up the two stairs that led to the door.

On the inside it was quiet and dark. There were no unnatural lights on, just the light coming from the morning streaming in from the sides of the church and a couple of candles dotted around the door. The place was devoid of ornament and decoration, as though it was brand new.

Daryl walked up to the altar that sat on a raised platform at one end of the hall. His steps made no sound on the carpeted floor. It was a wine red color and covered the whole floor, and made the room feel small and warm. Intimate.

"Can I help you?"

Daryl slowed to a stop at the voice, as a man came out of one of the doors to the side of the altar. He was dressed in the black garb of a priest, complete with the white collar at his neck. His dark skin shone in the weak light and his eyes were wide and dark.

Daryl cleared his throat and shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Just…looking for guidance, I guess," he said, shifting his weight awkwardly. The persona came easy to him as though he was putting on a pair of shoes – this lost, worried young thing. He could play it well. Merle used to say he could play anyone if he put his mind to it.

The priest nodded, pressing his lips together, and folded his hands together in front of him. "My name is Gabriel," he said. "You look like you need someone to talk to."

Daryl let his shoulders relax and a small smile come to his lips, something like relief. "I don't wanna bother you, Father," he said with another shrug. He took a step back, quietly pleased when the priest stepped towards him as though unwilling to let his lost soul escape. "I should be goin'."

"Please, this is what I'm here for," Gabriel said in reply, his smile kind, if a little thin. He stepped to one side and took a spot on the end of the right-hand pew, and turned to gesture to the left-hand seat. "Would you sit?"

Daryl let himself hesitate another moment, before he appeared to acquiesce and took his seat in the left-hand pew, facing Gabriel. When he came closer he could smell that the other man was an Alpha, but his scent was mild and wasn't overpowering. He was chemical, almost. Vanilla and powdered sugar.

"What's on your mind?" Gabriel asked. His head tilted to one side as though his very existence hinged on Daryl's reply.

Daryl sighed, putting his face in his hands. "I'm just…so lost, Father," he said. Daryl wouldn't call himself necessarily a good actor – he didn't need to act. He could choose to let show what he needed to show to get the emotional response he needed. To say that this had been a rough couple of days would be an understatement.

So he let it soak into him, sour his scent and weigh down his heart. He let himself _feel_ the ache for his mate, the frustration at the mystery, and his burning _need_ to find out who Milton was and just what he had done – he let it flow through him, and show on his face, and thicken his voice until it sounded like he was about to cry.

"I don't know what to do anymore. It's been so long since – since I've felt anywhere close to safe. I can't protect myself, or my son anymore."

Gabriel hummed softly, his brow furrowing. "Are you not mated?" he asked.

Daryl shook his head, choking on his breath. "I lost him," he said. "Five years ago, I lost him. And now…it's just too much. I can't keep going on like this."

He could sense the Alpha's emotional balance shift, from distant and patient to sympathetic, interested. Gabriel was falling into Daryl's emotional web, spun around in it as easy as anything. Daryl was good at it, when he put his mind to it.

"Why did you come here?" Gabriel said, his voice a hushed whisper.

Daryl sighed. "I don't know."

Gabriel straightened up, looking towards the door, and then towards the door through which he had came. Then, he leaned forward. "Listen," he said, "there's a man I think you should meet. He helps Omegas like you."

Daryl frowned, wiping his hand across his face as though clearing up tears. "You don't mean…that A.N.G.A.L. guy, right?" He dropped his gaze, bounced his knee, shifted his weight and let himself sound quiet and scared. "'Cause I've heard -."

"No, no, not him," Gabriel said quickly, reaching out to settle what was probably meant to be a reassuring hand on Daryl's knee. Daryl fought the urge to flinch and growl at him. "This man is an Omega, like you, and I believe he can help you. His name is Milton Mamet."

Daryl frowned as though he had never heard the name before. He sniffed and wiped at his face again. "Where can I find him? What kind of help do you mean?"

Gabriel smiled. "I'll tell you," he said. "And I believe he will make all of your problems disappear."

 

 

 

When Daryl came out of the church, he could _feel_ Shane's curious stare burning a hole in the side of his head. He held up a piece of paper with an address written on it. It was, according to Gabriel, the address of an old shipping warehouse that had closed down with the expansion of the town.

"Aww, shit, you got it?" Shane said with a joyful whoop, snatching the paper out of Daryl's hand. Daryl just nodded. "Who pissed in your cornflakes, man? This is great!"

"I think Milton's done this before," Daryl said quietly as Shane started the car and pulled out of the church parking lot. The address was on the other side of Woodbury, past the outskirts of the town. It was sure to draw attention, someone like Milton visiting there all the time. So maybe he was there _all the time_. Maybe he had disappeared to there and just lived in some underground lab like a mole.

Shane frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"In there, I talked to a priest who said he could help me. He talked like he knew what Milton had been doing. Like he's done it before." He turned to look at Shane. "You think that's possible? That there might be a whole mess of these androids Milton's been building for people like me?"

"I mean…" Shane shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe?"

"That's creepy as fuck," Daryl said with a shudder. "I fucking hope not."

Shane pressed his lips together and merely gave another hum in reply. They drove in silence through the town, the ominous shadow of the ANGAL tower in constant sight as they navigated through the streets of Woodbury. The deeper through it they got, the more unsettled and nervous Daryl was getting. It felt like everyone who looked at them knew who they were and what they were there for.

"It's too perfect," Shane said after another moment.

Daryl frowned again. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Look," Shane said, nodding to a traffic light up ahead. It was red, but before Shane could even step on the brakes it changed to green, allowing them to pass right through. The pedestrians were groups perfectly that they didn't have to worry about turning into them. "There's something…off about this place."

Daryl shifted his weight in his seat, looking out of the window. They passed by a café, the tables and chairs outside occupied in every seat except one table in the shade. As they drove past, a waitress looked up and waved at them, smiling.

Daryl had never been waved at by a stranger in his life. He squinted and turned back to face forward. "It's very…wholesome," he said after a moment.

Shane hummed. "Settin' all kinds of shit off in my head," he said, pushing down on the gas to beat the light as it changed to yellow. The car behind them stopped at the intersection. The children waiting at the crossroads grinned and waved.

"Small towns can be like this," Daryl said. "Mine was. At least, the nice part of it was."

Shane nodded, humming again. "I guess," he said. He looked at his phone where he had typed in the address. "We're getting close to it."

The borders of Woodbury broke as suddenly as sidewalk turned into road. The last house passed them and then it became flat fields for several hundred feet, before a barbed wire fence cropped up, surrounding a large concrete lot and a big building that had clearly seen better days. It was the only part of Woodbury they had yet to see that didn't look fresh and new and _clean_ , and Daryl's eyes narrowed as they approached it.

"Not exactly what I'd pick for a secret lair," he said critically.

Shane snorted. "You'd do, like, a bat cave in the woods or something."

"Or something," Daryl replied lightly. The gates were open and they drove straight through. It looked like the gates had been chained closed at one point – there were halves of chains still clinging to the open edges, a heavy padlock hanging at chest height. "I'm officially getting creeped out."

"Same here," Shane said, pulling the car to a stop in front of a side door that sat next to a bright-yellow loading dock door. The paint was faded and chipped pretty much everywhere to the point where the original color was hardly recognizable. The door itself looked recent.

Daryl got out of the car as soon as it rolled to a stop, leaving Shane to hurry in unbuckling his seatbelt and following after him. He caught up with Daryl a few feet from the door.

"Daryl, wait," he said, catching the Omega at the bicep and pulling him to a stop. Daryl turned around, letting out an impatient growl and Shane huffed a breath. "Look, man, just hold your horses, okay? This place is giving me the major heebies. I don't like the idea of going in there just the two of us. We don't know what we'll find."

"I need answers, Shane," Daryl said, "and this might be the only time I'm going to get them. Milton could have disappeared by the time we get back here."

"And don't you think it's weird that the first and _only_ guy you talked to knew exactly where to find him?" Shane challenged, letting Daryl go once he was sure he had the Omega's attention. "I mean, c'mon man, this is like common sense 101. You don't go in without your backup and if something looks like a trap it's pretty much always going to be one!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Daryl snapped back, throwing his arms out to either side of him and glaring at Shane. "What _exactly_ do you think will happen?"

"I don't know, and that's what's freaking me out!"

Daryl sucked in a breath, putting his head in his hands and running his fingers back through his hair. "Shane, I'm goin' in there," he said, with finality. "You can come with me or you can stay, but I'm going in."

Shane's mouth twisted and he heaved out a hard breath through his nose. "Fuck," he hissed, rubbing a hand over his mouth, before he threw them both up in a helpless gesture. "Fine. Fuck it. Lead the way."

Daryl nodded, pressing his lips together, before he turned and headed towards the door. It opened easily to his pull, a loud claxon call signaling the door being opened. Daryl and Shane froze at the sound and Shane uttered a low curse.

"Well that's our subtlety gone," he muttered.

"I don't think we were ever going to sneak up on him," Daryl replied just as quietly. "But maybe he's not here."

Shane let out a soft sound that let Daryl know exactly what he thought of that theory, but made no other comment. There was a long, dark hallway lit only by a single light on top of another door at the end and Daryl strode down it, Shane following close behind. They reached the second door, which had a window in it at face height, and Daryl cupped his hands to the glass and tried to peer through, but it was too dark to see anything.

"See anything?" Shane asked, and Daryl shook his head.

"Here goes nothin'," he muttered, and yanked the second door open.

As soon as they stepped through, there was a loud clanging sound, and row upon row of lights started to come on. It was clear this was the main body of the warehouse, and Daryl let out a startled gasp as he saw what the lights were illuminating.

First, he saw what was clearly the lab he had seen on the video feed on his television. There was a camera seated by the computer monitor, and that same table with a body-shaped mass on top of it, covered by a sheet.

But that wasn't all.

"Is that…?" Shane's voice was low and awed behind him, and Daryl nodded.

"Yeah," he replied hoarsely. "It's Woodbury."

He saw that waitress, standing in the first row of bodies making up neat lines that stretched all the way to the back of the warehouse. She had the same smile, vacant on her face. The same blonde hair tied up on one side. The same blue eyes. He saw the children Shane had nodded at when they walked past the front of his car. He saw the kid with the bowl cut and the missing front tooth. He saw the hairdresser that had been taking a smoke break outside of her salon when they'd driven past.

He saw Father Gabriel, and the news reporter that had been reporting the scandal, and he saw the patrons at the café.

"What the _fuck_?" Daryl whispered, taking a step forward, and then another. The things seemed to be unreactive and didn't move as he and Shane approached. He walked forward until he was face-to-face with the waitress. She stared straight ahead, her eyes at his neck height, and he could see now that her eyes weren't quite like a human's. He could see gears, and the shine of wires on the inside of her iris. It would fool a casual glance at first look, he was sure. Maybe when she was operational, too. Her skin looked real enough, and he was unwilling to touch her, just in case.

Daryl turned as he heard a familiar chirping sound. It was the sound of the system when it used to greet him first thing in the morning, and it was coming from Milton's computer. He ran over to it, Shane close behind, and skidded to a halt when he saw the words _Hello, Daryl_ flashing in white across the screen.

"Oh my God," he said, and his hands were shaking.

"Daryl," Shane whispered, and Daryl turned. Shane was looking down at the body on the table, still. It was covered in the sheet but Shane had lifted one edge and it was angled so that Daryl couldn't immediately see the face and body that was lying under it. But Daryl knew enough about patterns, and clues, and systems to know what he would find under there. And he knew enough about Shane to guess the answer from the Alpha's face without having to ask.

Still. "Is it…?" He took a step forward, and then another, and walked as though his feet were made of lead and there was cement in a collar around his neck. Shane lifted his eyes, and they were wide and shone brightly with tears.

Shane bit his lower lip, hard, and then pulled the sheet back to reveal the body underneath down to the waist. Granted, the android wasn't finished. Its chest was open, revealing gears and wires and a softly pulsing inner core that glowed a bright blue. But the skin was there, the thickness of his arms was the same, the color of his hair and the shape of his nose. The color of his lips, the way they were a little dry and cracked at the edges.

Daryl gasped, putting a hand to his mouth, his fingers shaking hard enough that he was worried his hand would fall off, that he would crumble into dust and become nothing more than a soul and a sigh. "Oh my God," he whispered, his voice soft and quiet and awed like stepping into a church, like seeing the face of God. Like being lost in space or buried at sea.

" _Rick_."


	18. Chapter 18

" _Rick_."

Daryl couldn't breathe. All of the air had been sucked out of his skin, out of his lungs and left him in another shuddery gasp. His mate's name felt strange on his tongue, foreign in his mouth, and it burned something inside of him – something that had claws and jagged edges and began to churn where his heart was, shredding him from the inside.

This couldn't be happening.

"What the _fuck_?" he yelled, turning around with tears in his eyes as he glared upon the rows of vacant statues that made up the Woodbury population. He wanted to scream, and tear at something, and he wanted to fall to his knees and finally give into it – the grief, the anger, the clarion call of destruction raging in his bones. This wasn't _right_.

"Daryl, look," Shane said, his voice soft and quiet as a graveyard. Daryl looked up, his shoulders heaving, and caught movement between the people. It was Milton, he was sure of it. Shane's hand caught him before he could bolt towards the man. His fists were tightly clenched, his teeth bared, everything in him _daring_ the man to come closer to them.

Milton was everything an Omega tended to be. His shoulders were hunched up to protect his neck, his eyes downcast, his entire demeanor mousy and unthreatening. He shuffled closer to them, and he was looking at them. Of course, he knew they were there, but he was unwilling to come too close, winding between the bodies standing in the warehouse like they would protect him from the fire in Daryl's eyes.

"Milton," Daryl hissed, his teeth bared, enough venom in his voice to slay an army.

"Mr. Dixon," Milton replied meekly, now in the third row of people. He shifted his weight and wrung his hands. He was pale and trembled finely, and Daryl could smell the stale stick of fear even from where they were standing. "I imagine you have a lot of questions -."

"You're damn fucking _right_ -."

"Daryl." Shane's voice cut through Daryl's rage, even though the Alpha sounded just as ragged and angry as he felt. Still, there was enough of the Alpha command in his name to make him go still, to force himself to relax. "Yes, Milton, we have a lot of questions."

Daryl felt like he could barely see. Everything was a haze of the bright blue glow of the simulator, the flash of red that was his anger. He would rip the Omega's throat out if he was close enough. Everything _burned_. This was too much – for so long Daryl had known nothing but a sharp, empty longing for his mate, and now to have everything thrown at him right now, and on such a grand scale. He wasn't sure he wasn't going to lose his damn mind.

A chirp broke the silence as Milton took another hesitant step forward and Daryl turned his head. The _'Hello, Daryl'_ had faded away, blending into a familiar mix of blue and green and brown. It was the park path that the simulator had taken to portraying whenever it was showing itself as his mate. He broke away from Shane's hold and stalked over to the computer, his hands planted flat on the desk and his shoulders curled in as though expecting a blow.

Sensing Daryl's distraction, Milton moved closer like a specter. His presence felt cold. Or maybe that was Daryl. He was trembling.

His mate stepped onto the screen, in that same old t-shirt and running shorts. His face lit up when he saw Daryl and Daryl let out a soft, broken sound. His fingers curled around the desk tight enough that he felt a splinter dig into one of his nails. He paid it no mind.

"What is this?" he asked, turning away from the screen to glare at Milton again, who had taken up space on the other side of the table where Daryl's mate's body lay. Milton bit his lower lip, his shaking hands rubbing and twisting together, and he looked down at the still, impassive face on the table. It reminded Daryl too much of when he'd been called in to identify his mate's body. Shane had offered to do it, but Daryl had insisted. He wouldn't have missed a second of being near his mate, even in death.

"I -. I was the one who originally came up with the ANGAL system," Milton stuttered, his eyes never moving from the glow of the core in the android's chest. He reached out and Daryl snarled, instinctively hating anything touching something that even _looked_ like his mate. He knew it wasn't his mate – _it couldn't be, it couldn't be­_ – but his instincts were strong and ran deep. Milton hesitated, his eyes lifted. They were almost completely gold, submission written into his deep enough to be etched into his bones, Daryl was sure. He stalked towards the other Omega but didn't snarl at him again, and took a place by Shane's side as Milton ducked his head and began to fold the pieces of the android's chest back together.

"Philip -. Mr. Blake. He was the one who took it commercial," Milton continued. The halves of the android's chest slid together neatly, locking with a soft click. The only mar to show that it was there was a small divot in the lower part of its chest, and Daryl's throat went tight when he realized that's exactly where the bullet had landed. The one that had taken his mate away from him. What kind of fucked up joke was this?

"What are these?" Shane asked, sensing Daryl's inability to speak. If he understood the location of the seal, he didn't show it. He was staring back out towards the rows and rows of androids, silent and still.

Milton smiled. It was a small, timid thing. Daryl felt his anger slowly beginning to ebb, too caught up in Milton's careful hands as he pushed the pieces of the android back together. Slowly, he was becoming whole. _Alive_. Daryl dreaded what would happen when it was done.

"I created them," Milton said after a moment. "At first, I just made one for myself. I'm – I'm mated. But my mate was…not good for me. And I wasn't strong enough to get away from him on my own, so I made my system real. And it worked. And I started to make more because I could. They…they _change_."

Daryl nodded. He knew all too well just how malleable the codes could be. "Did you do it on purpose?" he asked, his voice raspy like he hadn't spoken in days. "The spying?"

Milton's wide eyes flashed up to him and he shook his head so hard his glasses almost fell off. "No! That was…that was Blake. As soon as I realized what was happening I took all of my friends and sealed their codes so he couldn't get to them."

"But Blake's still here, isn't he?"

Milton shook his head. "He went on the run after the scandal. My reporter made sure she got everything. He's probably somewhere in Mexico right now."

Shane growled. "Son of a bitch should be behind bars."

Milton gave a one-shouldered shrug. He took his hands away from the android, fixing his shy gaze on Daryl again. "Rick -."

"Don't." Daryl held up a hand, fingers curling as though they couldn't even stay straight up. The fight had leeched out of him as easily as blood, leaving him drained and tired beyond belief. "Don't say his name."

Milton nodded. "Yours came to me. He said that…he said that he needed a body. He had all the designs already. I just needed to make it."

"You make them here? In this warehouse?" Shane's voice was high with disbelief, his eyebrows raised as he turned back to look at the Omega.

"No." Milton shook his head again. "The ANGAL building is abandoned now. I have some of my friends working on the servers to make sure everyone who has the system can stay safe, but I made them in the labs in the basement. All the materials are there."

"Why the copies?" Daryl asked, gesturing to the waitress. "I saw her, in Woodbury. Are they all androids?"

"Not all of them," Milton said, looking somewhat sheepish. "Some of the Omegas and women are real. They like it here. Woodbury is safe because it is protected. It's one of the safest places on Earth."

Daryl fought back a dismissive sound.

"And the copies are…well, unfortunately the materials have a shelf life. Wear and tear. They last about three months before they start to degrade. But Ri – _yours_." Milton's face lit up, something like pride flashing across his features as he looked down to the prone android on the table. "I think I've perfected it. Used a new polymer, something that won't break down. I think yours is the first _perfect_ one I've made."

Daryl swallowed hard. This Omega was creating, giving birth, just as all Omegas are biologically programmed to want. Children had never been something in the cards for Daryl, not until his mate, but even when he was young and death seemed like a more attractive option than anything else, he had looked at parents and their children and felt something go soft inside of him. He had never felt more loved and more protected than when his mate would sleep next to him when he was pregnant, his body curled protectively around Daryl's like he could shield him from everything.

Milton's golden eyes watched him. "You can touch, if you want," he said. "It feels like real skin. Once he's charged up he will need to plug in to a power outlet every few days, but he's pretty much self-sufficient."

Daryl looked down. He wanted to. How fucked up was that? He _wanted_ to touch the android, he wanted to see it wake up and move and see if it moved like he used to. He wanted to hear his mate's voice again.

But he couldn't. It wasn't fair. It wouldn't be fair to Carl, or to Shane and Lori, or to himself to bring something like this into their lives. This thing didn't _smell_ like him; it would never smell like him again. It wouldn't be able to laugh quite right, or know the punchlines to Daryl's stupid jokes, or know how to hug Carl and with how much pressure. It wouldn't be able to work and function like a normal Alpha. It couldn't love Daryl. It didn't have the _ability_ to love Daryl.

It wasn't _him_.

"Daryl."

Daryl's fist clenched and he closed his eyes at the sound of his mate's voice coming from the screen. He was standing very close to it, reaching out as though he could touch Daryl through the monitor. The Alpha on the screen looked like his heart was breaking.

"Please."

"…I can't," he whispered, stepping back. He shook his head and opened his eyes. His vision was blurry with tears. "I can't let you do this to me again. I _can't_."

He backed towards the door, unable to think of anything else but _away, get away_. The Alpha on the screen let out a loud, afraid sound, and moved as though he was going to slam against the screen in an attempt to break through. He couldn't, of course, but it damn well looked like it was going to try.

"Daryl!" it yelled, slamming its fist against the glass. "Milton, wake my body up! _Daryl_!"

"Don't you fucking dare!" Daryl growled, glaring at Milton. The Omega shrank back from Daryl's gaze, towards his field of androids.

"Daryl, don't leave me! _Please!_ "

 _Fuck_. Daryl had to get away. He turned tail and fled through the door, slamming on it with all his weight to get through it as fast as possible. His mate's cries – _no, not his mate, just a thing with his mate's voice_ – followed him down the hallway until he broke through the second door to the sound of another claxon call. The light was too bright outside, midday beating down on his shoulders and he winced, stumbling to Shane's car and falling against it with a broken sob.

The air that had left his lungs upon first uncovering the android's body flooded back into him and he gasped, shuddering, shaking. He slammed his fist against the hood of the car and let out a pained-sounding shriek. He hit the car again, pain shooting up his knuckles and wrist where he'd angled it wrong, and grit his teeth and hit the car again, and again, until his shoulder burned and his other arm could no longer bear his weight.

He turned around, sliding to the floor with a thud, and dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. Everything burned, and he could barely breathe past the sobs wracking his body. "Oh, fucking _God_ , shit!" he yelled up to the sky, tears finally breaking through the barrier he'd stubbornly kept up and running, thick and hot down his cheeks. He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe through them, but he couldn't find the air again.

Being mated was like a tug. He had felt it the entire time he'd been with Rick, sitting like a hook just behind his heart. Being without it was like floating in a life raft but having that life raft tied to nothing, adrift in a vast sea of loneliness and disconnect. Now it felt like someone had speared a harpoon through his life raft, and it had burst and he was drowning and the only choice was to grab onto that spear and let it drag him by the neck to whatever ship had cast it.

" _Fuck_!" he screamed, leaning his head back against the bumper of the car. He _ached_ for a cigarette. Or maybe something stronger. Something someone like Merle could have given him. He sucked in another breath and sobbed, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his arms against them.

"…Rick," he whispered, shaking his head and squinting at the ground. Whenever he closed his eyes more tears leaked out. "Rick, _Rick_ , _fuck!_ " His mate's name burned him from the inside out, that spear turning white-hot, that ball of something jagged and ragged shredding him straight through his chest. "Rick, fuck, please… Please…"

His mate had always provided for him, even when Daryl himself hadn't known what he'd needed. They hadn't been perfect, but they'd been _right_. And nothing was right now. Nothing was fair.

A shadow fell upon him and he lifted his gaze, ready to tear into whatever sorry son of a bitch had been unlucky enough to come to him during his breakdown. But then he smelled Shane's familiar scent, bitter with grief, and lowered his head again with another growled whimper of pain.

"It ain't _him_ ," he hissed, his fingers curling.

Shane sighed. Daryl couldn't see his face because of how the sun was angled. "No, it ain't," he admitted, making Daryl look up at him again in disbelief. "But, him or not, it's real. So what're you gonna do?"

Daryl growled. "You're my Alpha," he hissed. "You figure it out."

Shane snorted, shaking his head again. "I never been your Alpha, man. You know that. You were always….always Rick's." He said the name like a widow, a man mourning for the loss of his other half. Daryl was mated to him, of course, and their bond went as deep as the soul and was rooted into their psyche so well that separation was a physically painful thing. But Shane was his brother, the other half to his person, the man he trusted to take care of Daryl and his son and who he had signed Daryl's guardianship over to when they had to draw up legal paperwork before they got mated.

Daryl's mate had been their rock, their cement foundation, the glue binding their souls together. Without him they were lost and wandering, incomplete, like ghosts with unfinished business haunting the halls of their own lives. Daryl didn't want to live like that, but he couldn't afford to live any other way.

"I want to bring him home," Shane said, and Daryl closed his eyes, not surprised but broken all the same. "He doesn't have to live with you. He can stay with Lori and me. But I don't want to leave him here. He doesn't belong here."

"It ain't him, Shane," Daryl said again, whisper-soft. He wiped at his skin, grimacing at the dry feeling of tears still clinging. "I know you wanna believe. I wanna believe so fuckin' bad, too. But it ain't. And it ain't fair to Carl to bring him in when it ain't his dad."

"Then we won't tell Carl," Shane said, and Daryl could hear in his voice that he had already decided. Daryl's consent was a formality at this point. "Not right away. And you don't have to see him, like I said. Not until you're used to the idea."

Daryl snorted, shaking his head again. He would never get used to the idea of his fucking mate reincarnated in some pathetic facsimile of a man. But Shane had decided. And he was the pack Alpha, no matter what he said.

He heard the claxon a second before the door opened and Milton stepped out of the warehouse. He held the door open and looked back inside, and made an encouraging gesture, and Daryl's breath caught when the figure behind him stepped out of the shadows and into the light.

He scrambled to his feet, his heart flying in his chest because his heart didn't have any idea what the fuck was going on.

He looked… _beautiful_.

In the sunlight his hair shone, and his eyes were that same perfect, gorgeous blue that Daryl had melted so easily for. They glowed, but honestly so had Daryl's mate's when he was still alive. Milton had given him clothes – a loose-fitting shirt that was a little too short and fell at the waist, and a pair of lounge pants that looked thin and frayed and were cinched tightly around his hips to cling to his slimmer frame. His feet were bare and when he looked down he smiled at the ground, dragging his toes across the cement as though marveling at the feel of it. As though it _could_ experience sensation.

And then the android's head lifted and his eyes locked with Daryl's, and that joy _exploded_ across his face, like he had been searching for a million years and trekked across vast stretches of time and space to gaze upon Daryl, and like now that he had he would fall to his knees and give worship and die there as a prostrate servant to Daryl's image.

Daryl swallowed, stepping back until his legs hit the car. Under the weight of so much open adoration, he felt small and meek. He turned his gaze away and walked to the passenger side door of the car.

Shane smiled as the android approached, reaching out to pat a hand on his shoulder. The android mimicked him in a gesture so achingly familiar that Daryl bit back a small whine, looking down as the two Alphas embraced.

"S'good to see you, brother," the android said, his voice with the same cadence, the same roughness, the same slur to the 'S' and the drawl on the 'you'. Daryl felt another tug behind his heart, the hook of the harpoon sinking in and twisting.

"And you," Shane replied, his voice rough. "Let's get you home."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe me if I said the worst was behind us?

To say the ride back to their apartment building was awkward would be like saying the ocean can get a little deep in the middle. Daryl stared straight ahead, not looking at his side-mirror or daring to turn around to address the man sitting in their back seat.

It wasn't a man, it _wasn't_ his mate, but damn it all if Daryl didn't feel those familiar eyes on the back of his neck like a brand. The harpoon feeling behind his heart was getting worse, if that was possible. He felt like he was being pulled into the seat and backwards, his soul yearning to be next to the thing that had posed itself like his mate and wormed its way so cleverly into his heart.

They kept the radio off and that just made the silence worse. More oppressive. They drove out of Woodbury and Daryl felt shivers running up and down his arms, knowing now that more than half of the people he was looking at were Milton's other androids. The same waitress from before smiled and waved at them again as they passed, her expression gentle and warm like Daryl imagined a mother would look. But she had no children. No natural ones, anyway.

This couldn't be real. Androids couldn’t form communities, and friendships. They didn't _love_. They were chemicals and code and he couldn't fathom the thought that there were real people in this town, living alongside them, loving them like friends, like maybe more. How many women and Omegas had flocked here, and taken a mate amongst them, and lived happily ever after? How many of them watched them decay, and came to Milton for replacements? What was it like trading in your _mate_ , or your _friend_ , like a new phone, or an upgraded car?

His shoulders curled in and he shuddered.

Milton had said this one was perfect. This one wouldn't decay, and would stay working as long as it kept itself charged. Did they even eat? Did they pretend to? Could it drink beer, or get drunk? Could it _lust_ , could the pupils dilate and go red? Was it a real Alpha?

Would it ever smell like one?

Daryl thought back to the priest he'd met. Gabriel. The man's chemical, fake scent made more sense now. It wasn't that he was a deadened Alpha, his scent dull so that he could tend to his flock. It must be fake, which meant whatever this android was capable of, it wouldn't _smell_ right. And Daryl's instincts were too strong to settle for anything less than the real deal.

"Shit," Shane said after a second, once they were on the highway. "I gotta call Lori."

Daryl closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the rest. Of course. Because showing up with the fake version of her friend and Daryl's mate was sure to spur some questions.

"I'll do it," he said, dying for any excuse to take him away from the immediate reality of sitting in a car with Shane and the _thing_. He fished into his pocket for his phone and flipped it open, scrolling down to Lori's number.

It was later in the day, now. Carl would be at school and Lori would probably be awake. She picked up on the fourth ring, sounding breathless. "Daryl?" she asked, as though it could be anyone else. "Shane told me what you were doing. What happened?"

At that, Daryl's eyes betrayed him, and swept to the side-view mirror. He could see his mate there, sitting comfortably in the back seat. His eyes were fixed at some point out of the window, watching the scenery as they drove through it. And his breath caught in his lungs.

"Daryl?" she asked again, sounding more concerned. Daryl heard Judith give a little shriek of anxiety and just like that the bubble burst, letting him speak;

"Shane's bringing him home," he said, his words quiet, voice weak. He heard her suck in a breath and was sure a million questions lingered on the exhale. "We…we found him. Milton. Turns out he's been making a fuckton of these things and he…he made him. Shane's bringing him home."

He couldn't say 'we', he _refused_ to say 'we'. Because they weren't. If Daryl had had his way he'd have burned the warehouse and salted the Earth around Woodbury. Or maybe not. His misery shouldn't mean that of others. But he hadn’t decided to bring the thing home with them. He didn't want his mate, living and laughing, in the same place where he was. He didn't want Carl to call is _dad_ , he didn't want Lori and Shane to treat it like nothing was wrong, like the last five years hadn't happened. Daryl clung to his bitterness like a rock ledge, determined not to fall.

"…Can I talk to him?" she asked.

Daryl raised his knuckles to his mouth, biting down on his cuticles. "Shane's drivin'."

"Not Shane," Lori said. "…Rick. I wanna talk to Rick."

Daryl closed his eyes again, biting back an ugly sound, and handed the phone off without a word. "She wants to talk to you," he said, hardly daring to turn his head even a little.

He felt the phone get taken out of his hand, heard the android move so that he was sitting upright. "Hey, Lori," he said, and Daryl bit back another quiet whine, his eyes burning with tears, and he looked straight ahead again. "Who's that? Oh… Oh my God. Congratulations! How old? _Wow_."

He sounded so amazed, joy written into every word like he had waited a thousand years to speak to Lori, to hear her talk about what Daryl assumed was Judith. Judith would grow up knowing this man, this thing. She would look at it with familiarity and love. She might even grow up to call it uncle. How fucked up was that?

"I can't wait to see her. I hope she got your looks," he joked, and Daryl heard Lori's soft laugh in answer. Anger and betrayal burned in his throat. How _dare_ she take to the thing so quickly. "Was the labor difficult? I remember Daryl -."

"No, you _don't_ ," Daryl hissed under his breath. Shane cast him a sideways glance, but the android didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, his was hard too. But you sound amazing. I can't wait to see you. And Carl."

" _No_ ," Daryl growled, louder this time. "You're not going to see him. _Ever_."

There was a pause, and Daryl could feel those glowing blue eyes on his face again. "I'll see you soon, Lori. Bye." Then, he hung up and leaned forward so that he could put the phone in the cup holder. Daryl flinched away from him. "Daryl."

"No."

"Daryl, _please_. Look at me."

Daryl was, he was rapidly discovering, not a strong man. But he clung to his decision like there was nothing else in the world he could hold. Carl _was_ his world, and he wasn't going to fuck up whatever tentative happiness the child might achieve.

"No," he said again. "You're not seeing him. I'm not letting you see him."

"Carl's gonna find out eventually, man," Shane said quietly. The traffic was thickening around them, forcing him to slow down as they neared the outskirts of the city. "You can't keep somethin' like this from him. That's not fair."

"None of this is fair!" Daryl hissed, biting down on his cuticles again until they began to bleed. He cursed and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Damn it, he was going to be okay, and then _you_ came along. He was _fucked up_ when you left him."

_When you left us._

_And not for the first time._

"…I asked you," the android began, his voice soft and non-threatening and altogether too even, "before I left, what would prove myself to you, what I could do to make you believe that I'm _real_ and I'm _here_ for you. And you said you didn't know. Well, I have a body now. A _real_ one. I can stay forever. I can be with you forever."

"I don't want forever with you," Daryl snarled. "I wanted it with _him_."

"In all the time I've known you, you have barely said his name. Why are you clinging so stubbornly to his memory?"

"You said you weren't gonna try and replace him," Daryl said. "You said you weren't, and now here you are. Lori's gonna treat you like you're him. Carl will…Carl will call you _dad_. _You_ didn't make him. You didn't raise him. _I_ did! And I spent too long crying and clawing my way back up to have you swoop in and act like the hero. The _prodigal Alpha_. I won't have it!"

"Daryl, I'm not trying -."

Daryl flinched when he felt the android's hand land on his arm. His skin was cool to the touch and felt _real_. "Don't fucking touch me. Shane, stop the car. Right now."

"C'mon, Daryl, don't -." But it was too late. They were at a red light and Daryl threw himself out of the car, almost colliding with the car next to it to a single, yelping honk. He slammed the door shut and stalked away to the sidewalk. At least, this far away, the thing couldn't touch him. "Daryl! Get back in the car! _Daryl_!"

He tuned Shane's voice out, unwilling to get to the point where the Alpha used the command in his voice to compel him back into the car. He pulled his shoulders up to protect his neck and curled his upper lip back when he heard a car door open again.

"Stay away from me!" he yelled, whirling on the Alpha as it stepped up onto the sidewalk. The android's expression was one of despair, as though he were real and they were mated and Daryl was forcibly separating the bond right before his eyes. It took a step forward and Daryl took one back.

"Daryl," it murmured, reaching out across the space between them, which at once felt like only a few feet and a hundred miles. Daryl wouldn't believe. He couldn't afford to believe.

But they were in the middle of the street in broad daylight and Daryl couldn't afford to make a scene. They were in a part of the city where a few people might recognize the android as the poor, deceased cop, and Daryl couldn't afford to bring any more attention to them. He turned and started to walk away, knowing that the android was bound to follow.

It didn't speak again, and Daryl didn't hear Shane calling for him again. He rounded a corner onto a smaller, more deserted street, and turned around again, waiting for the android to approach.

He wasn't prepared for the small spark of anxiety that rose in him when the thing didn't immediately follow. Of course, he didn't want it to follow him, but the longer he waited, the more anxious he became. It could disappear again. It could leave him. Daryl _wanted_ it to leave him, but the feeling in his chest was expanding and growing barbs, compelling him to find his mate again and stay by his side. Daryl swallowed the feeling down. The jacket he was wearing was the one with his old pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and at once he took it out and lit a cigarette, sighing in something like relief. He had been craving one for so long.

He sat down on the steps outside of someone's front yard and smoked. He was sure he looked out of place – dirty, distraught. The kind of thing someone a little too well-meaning and a little too lacking in common sense would call the authorities over. He was, after all, a lone Omega, his scent bitter with distress and sadness. Easy prey.

Finally, he could take it no longer, and smashed the cigarette butt under his boot before standing. When he rounded the corner he wasn't sure what he was expecting to see. Maybe the thing standing there, statuesque and perfect, waiting for him to come back. Maybe gone, disappeared into Shane's car or somewhere else.

What he didn't expect was to see it standing and staring across the street, its eyes gleaming red, fists clenched by its sides. Daryl stepped closer and followed its gaze, eyes narrowing when he saw the Andersons walking down the other side of the street. Pete was in the lead, Jessie and Ron following close behind. Ron was walking with a slight limp and there were bruises around Jessie's throat.

The _gall_ , to walk in the open with an abused wife and son. Of course, it was Pete's right by law to treat his pack however he so chose, until the point where they pressed charges. Still, Daryl felt his anger turn into something more broad and righteous, indignation and rage passing behind his eyes like a red haze.

"That's the child who hit Carl," the android murmured. "And his father." His eyes narrowed, red flickering between the blue like the haze of a flame.

"Don't do anything stupid," Daryl warned, reaching out although he dared not let the touch land. As much as he knew his mate, and loved his mate, even that man could be unpredictable when his anger was summoned and his view of the world threatened. This machine wasn't his mate, and was far more capable and had far less of a conscience.

"I won't," the android replied, but Daryl could see it thinking. Considering. Its eyes ran up and down Pete, once, twice, sizing up an enemy as their kind used to do back before they became civilized. In theory. "I won't do anything that would take me away from you. I just want to know his face."

"Well, there it is," Daryl said, and this time he did reach out and grab the thing's sleeve. He wasn't even wearing shoes, for fuck's sake. No wonder so many people were giving them strange looks now. "Come on. Let's go to the apartment, get you covered up. I have some…some old clothes. I'll bring them to Shane's. They'll fit."

The android turned his head, finally breaking away from the predatory gaze it had kept on Pete Anderson, and its face broke out in a smile. "Thank you, Daryl," he said sincerely, reaching out to take Daryl's hand, only hesitating when Daryl flinched away.

"Come on," Daryl said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He jerked his head towards where Shane's car must have driven off to. "This way."

 

 

Daryl walked up to the apartment building and opened the door, finding Shane pacing around inside. The Alpha whirled on him, his eyes wide, and visibly caved in with relief when he saw the android following in behind him.

"Christ, I was worried sick. Your phone was still in my car," he said, handing it over. "You guys alright?"

"We saw Pete," Daryl said in reply, shrugging one shoulder as he hustled his way up the stairs. "Guy was about to go all avenging angel on his ass."

"Yeah, sounds about right," Shane said warmly. "Couple'a things I'd like to do to the bastard myself."

"I would have, but his wife and child were with him," came the android's reply, and Daryl bit his lower lip hard enough to hurt and forced himself to say nothing. "And I don't need to be arrested on my first day," he added with a small laugh.

 _His first day_. Like this was a job, a station out in some foreign land where he had to guard the people and protect the peace. Not a real life. Not one he wanted, if things like him _could_ want.

"I'm going to get some of his old clothes," Daryl said when he passed the door to Shane's apartment, turning around and keeping his eyes fixed downwards. "They'll fit. I'll bring 'em down."

"Sounds good," Shane said, letting Daryl off the hook with ease. He clapped a hand onto the android's shoulder. "Come on, Lori'll be inside, and Judith. I'm sure she's goin' crazy waiting for us."

As though her name had summoned her, the door to Shane's apartment flew open, revealing Lori. Her hair was messily pulled up, her eyes wide and wild, and she gasped and ducked down when she saw the machine, as though the strings holding her shoulders up and strong had been cut.

"Oh my God," she said, her eyes filling with tears. She reached out. " _Rick_."

The machine fell into her embrace, one hand on the back of her head as he held her tightly. She clung to him like a newborn, a sob racking her thin frame as she grabbed onto his clothes hard enough her knuckles went white. He had always been taller than her and even as lacking in width as Shane was, he dwarfed her easily. He held her like he had come home from a war, his face pressed to her hair, his other hand wrapped around her waist.

Daryl turned and left, fleeing to his apartment on the top floor. His fingers shook around the keys and he didn't even make it inside before the tears started to fall, blurring his vision and choking his breath in his lungs. He slammed the door shut with all his might, enough that the pictures on the wall rattled, and let out a hoarse scream. He turned and grabbed at the console on the side of the door, ripping it clean off the wall and hurling it in the vague direction of the living room. It scattered into pieces across the floor.

"He's not _real_!" Daryl yelled, like they could still hear him. Maybe the android could. Maybe it had super hearing or some shit like that. "It's not _him_!"

_It's not, it's not him. He doesn't remember, he didn't miss us. He didn't love us._

Daryl sank to his knees on the floor, the sobs shaking him until he felt like he might shatter into a million pieces like the console. His breath came hard when it came at all, and his _heart,_ oh his heart felt like it had fled his body to be with his mate, down at Shane's apartment, or maybe farther still, six feet under where it belonged.

"It's not him," he choked, wiping his hands across his face, his shoulders heaving. "It's _not_."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to add that there is a scene involving mentioned gun violence and attempted (not specified if it was successful) suicide. There is also violence typically associated with an ABO story. If anyone is triggered or iffy by these subjects please feel free to message me asking for greater detail before reading.

It took a long time before Daryl managed to get his shit together, and even then he couldn't bring himself to actually go through the process of pulling all the boxes out of the closet and carrying them down to Shane and Lori's apartment. Eventually Shane came up to his place, knocking quietly on the door before letting himself in. Without the console there was no way to lock the door without Daryl turning the lock himself.

He was still on the floor, but now he had his back to the wall, underneath the little row of hooks where coats would hang, and sitting on the mud-rough square of carpet for guest shoes. He was smoking, not even caring that he was likely seconds away from setting off the detector.

Shane coughed, waving away the smoke, and immediately opened the window at the far side of the room where the couch and TV were. "Christ, man, didn't know you still smoked."

Daryl sighed, looking up at the ceiling, and took another drag of his cigarette. There was already one stubbed out by his knee against the carpet. "In moments of extreme stress, sufferers may find themselves relapsing into old vices. It's important to have a strong support network to avoid falling into damaging habits."

Shane huffed a small, strained-sounding laugh. "Where'd you get that spiel from?"

"Therapist I went to a couple years back," Daryl replies, stubbing out his second cigarette. "The one you and Lori made me go to." He barked out a hard, bitter laugh. "You made me go to 'im, you made me go to them meetin's, and now you're makin' me accept that _machine_. Where Alpha goes, 'mega follows, right? Ain't got a _fuckin'_ choice when it comes to you people."

"Daryl -."

"No!" Daryl looked up, and shoved himself to his feet, his hands on the wall before he stepped forward and jabbed a finger in Shane's direction. "I'm fucking sick of this. Damn it, he was _my mate_! He was _mine_! And you – you don't even care, do you? You just want him back."

"Don't you?" Shane asked, his voice low and quiet. He wasn't posturing like Daryl expected him to, and there was no red in his eyes. "Don't you feel _anything_?"

Tears burned in Daryl's eyes and he flinched back from Shane as though the Alpha had punched him. "His shit's in the bedroom closet," he muttered. He still had his coat and his boots on, his keys and cigarettes still inside the pockets. "Get rid of it all. He can have _all of it_. I don't give a fuck anymore."

"Daryl!"

Shane didn't chase him, didn't try and order him back. Daryl felt like he should run for a thousand miles, but in reality he knew he was barely managing to walk. The stairs met his feet slowly, his boots hitting them to the rhythm of a funeral march and felt as though they had been coated in lead and his knees were made of brittle glass. Like every step would make them shatter.

He walked without direction or purpose, and found himself in the park where he and his mate used to run, and where he had sat with Michonne, and where Lori had gone into labor. There were so many memories here and all of them filled him with a sweet, sudden sadness. He found a bench along the running trail and collapsed onto the end of it, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

The air was cold and stung at his hands. He didn't have his phone on him and didn't know what time it was, but it must have been about time to pick up Carl from school. He got to his feet with another sigh and started heading that way, his head down and his hands tucked deep into his pockets to try and restore warmth to them.

As he approached the school he saw red and blue flashing lights around the outside, and for a moment his heart stopped and he was frozen with panic. The scene…was so fucking familiar, in his head. Of course he hadn't been there when his mate had been shot, but he'd seen the cars outside his apartment building, and the two cops – one of whom was Shane, the other Daryl had never met before – coming to him to give him his mate's personal belongings. Police lights are such a specific red and blue, and they flash together but never make purple.

And then, before, when the cops would show up to tell him his brother was in jail or his daddy was under arrest or when they'd come because his screams got a little too loud. He remembered the Child Protection Services lady that one time, remembered her because she hadn't come with lights and sirens.

Then he heard voices, and his eyes took in the gathered crowd, and he snapped back into action. His only thought was his son – he'd be _damned_ if he lost his child as well, the same way he'd lost his mate. There was no _fucking way_ that was going to happen.

Why the Hell hadn't Shane told him there'd been something at the school?

He pushed through the small crowd of people towards the epicenter of the onlookers. There was police tape and an Alpha held up his arms to stop him. "Sir, you can't go any farther -."

"My son's in there!" Daryl yelled, fighting against the cop's strong hold.

"Dad!"

Oh, thank _God_. Daryl went weak with relief when he heard Carl's voice, coming from the direction of one of the ambulances. He stopped fighting with the cop immediately, shoving his way through the crowd of people towards the closest one. Its lights flashed differently, white and red, and even in the middle of the day they were garish and hurt his eyes to look at.

"Carl!" he yelled again, cupping his hands to his mouth so his voice travelled and earning several worried and disapproving looks. Then, he caught movement – it was Carl, sitting on one of the backs of the ambulances, waving wildly to get his attention, and he practically ran over. One EMT tried halfheartedly to stop him, but as soon as he said Carl was his son she let him through, and he was able to gather his boy up in his arms.

He breathed in Carl's scent deeply, his hands shaking as they wrapped in his hair and around his shoulders. "Holy shit, don't you _ever_ scare me like that again," he said, before he pulled back and started to check Carl for injuries. There was a blanket around him and what looked like a patch of gauze across his cheek, but Daryl couldn't see or smell any fresh blood on him. "What happened?"

Carl's mouth twisted and he lowered his eyes. "Ron brought his dad's gun to school," he said quietly.

Daryl's eyes widened and he looked around. There were two ambulances and as far as he could see theirs was in the only one in active use. "Anyone get shot?"

Carl shook his head. "No, but…" His voice got shaky, then, and he bit his lower lip hard. "He, ah, he pulled the gun on Patrick, and then me, and he shot at us. Then he tried to – we were the only ones in the room – and he tried to -."

"You don't gotta tell me," Daryl said quietly, brushing his hand through Carl's hair.

Carl shook his head. "Ron tried to kill himself," he said, lifting his eyes to meet Daryl's. They were wide and as bright as his father's, watery and so fucking young that Daryl could feel his heart breaking. "He tried – and I think he might have done it. They took him away in an ambulance. I didn't see – I made sure Patrick wasn't looking and I turned away but I heard the shot and _oh my God dad what if he's dead_?"

Daryl shushed him quietly and pulled him into another hug, kissing the top of his head as Carl clung to him and started to sob openly. He closed his eyes. He remembered the violence and anger he had been exposed to as a pup, and had hoped that he could have saved Carl from knowing what kind of monsters there were in the world, and what kind of awful things could happen because of those monsters.

Guilt and anger twisted in him like a maelstrom. If his mother had pressed charges a little earlier, or if Daryl had called that lawyer a _little_ sooner -.

"You!"

Daryl's jaw clenched and he tensed up when he heard Pete Anderson's voice. He turned around and saw the man coming towards him, his eyes completely red and his teeth bared, canines out and sharp. Daryl let go of Carl and stepped away from him, hoping to draw Pete's attention away from his child. The EMTs had cleared out, the second ambulance was already driving away, people were starting to disperse.

Pete charged right up to him, his face within inches of Daryl's. He didn't throw a punch or reach yet – just stood there seething, his fingers curling like he wanted to wring Daryl's neck or rip his throat out.

" _Your_ bastard son did this," Pete snarled, all Alpha, the command in his voice thrumming through Daryl's spine. Daryl sucked in a hard breath through his nose and tried to ignore the stench of Alpha coating the air. Pete's scent was bitter and sour, like someone old or sick. Daryl couldn't even smell Jessie on him and wondered if maybe he'd finally snapped and would kill her, too.

He took a step back and straightened, trying to remain calm. Alphas so rarely went completely red but Daryl couldn't deny that Pete was borderline feral at this point. He was dangerous and deadly, practically a berserker.

If it were the old times, if Pete was a little more like Daryl's father, he would cower and hope his submission saved his neck. But this wasn't the old times. Daryl clenched his jaw and let his body tense up in preparation for a fight.

Pete blinked at him, nostrils flaring, mouth twitching open like he intended to bite Daryl. He lunged and Daryl moved away, grabbing his shoulders and twisting them so that Pete carried on in the opposite direction, away from him.

"I didn't do this," Daryl said quietly. Pete snarled and lunged again, punching Daryl's still-aching ribs hard once, twice, before Daryl managed to get space between them again and began to back away. He could hear Carl calling for help. "My _son_ didn't do this. You did!"

Pete's claws caught him this time, raking down his chest through his shirt where his jacket was open and exposing his throat and chest. Daryl hissed and flinched away. The claw marks stung but they weren't life threatening.

"Your son might be _dead_ because he couldn't stand another second around you!" Daryl said, louder this time, stronger. Because he knew. He _knew_ what that felt like, the idea that a gun to the head was a damn good way to go, all things considered. Would leave something messy for the bastards to clean up afterwards, if they bothered. "He hates you, and your wife hates you, and you can't do nothin' but beat the shit outta both of them!"

Pete _roared_ at him and _finally_ Daryl could see people starting to pay attention. But they wouldn't intervene. Pete was an Alpha, one gone red, and to all the world it might just look like him asserting his dominance over another bitch. If Carl was older maybe they'd listen, but people were stupid and loved a good show.

Pete lunged and slammed Daryl against the side of the ambulance. He punched hard enough that Daryl heard something crack and he coughed, leaning to the side to spit out blood. Pete's hand went around his neck and Daryl hissed, his teeth bloody when he bared them, and clawed at Pete's hand until he drew blood himself.

"You're _nothin_ '," he growled, his voice hoarse. "Not a real Alpha, not a real man. You're _nothin_ '."

Pete grinned at him, his bared canines glinting in the ambulance lights. "I'll show you what a _real_ Alpha's like, boy," he said, opening his jaws and shoving Daryl's head to one side. Daryl snarled and kicked at him as hard as he could, but he couldn't get the leverage or the space between them.

Pete abruptly went still as he heard the sound of a low, rumbling growl. It wasn't a roar – it didn't need to be. It felt like it rattled the ground and shook their bones. Abruptly Pete let go, and Daryl gasped and held his throat, wincing. He ducked and skirted the ambulance, trying to get out of the way as fast as possible.

Carl met him and they both turned to see what had caught Pete's attention. Carl clung to him tightly and it hurt Daryl's bruised ribs and scratched chest but he held onto his son just as tightly.

His eyes widened when he saw what had managed to distract the Alpha so thoroughly.

"You have your phone?" he whispered to Carl, and felt the boy nod. "Call Shane."

Pete snarled, advancing on what Daryl realized now appeared to him as a challenger. The other Alpha stepped out from the little lawn that separated the main road from the school drop-off zone and into the light. His eyes glowed the same blue as the police lights, just barely threaded with red, and when he bared his teeth his canines looked wicked and sharp.

He was dressed in a loose, grey t-shirt and black jeans that had a hole in the thigh and clung to him like he had never stopped wearing them. The same stretch across his shoulders, the same running shoes, the same _Goddamn_ way he would tuck a little of the front section of his shirt into his jeans so that he could reach his gun more easily.

Carl gasped beside him. "Shane," he said. "Dad's here."

Pete advanced on him and the android started to circle, calculated and calm. "Would you like to show _me_ what a 'real Alpha' is like?" he asked, voice low and quiet, almost seductive – or maybe that was Daryl's imagination. He remembered how his mate had looked when he looked like _that_ , all cocky confidence and brazen strength. He remembered the sleekness of his gait, the ready twitch of his hand. There was no gun at his side but Daryl knew he didn't need it. Not now.

His voice was perfect. No machine-like flatness, no lack of inflection. He spoke perfectly. Like he was real.

Pete bared his teeth in a grin. "That bitch ain't worth fightin' over," he said, and Daryl didn't miss the way the android's expression grew dark with anger, the red in his eyes deepening to something more like the innards of man.

He advanced on Pete, threatening and swift, and suddenly Pete was on the floor from a mean right hook aimed right at his jaw. The android didn't stop there – he knelt with one knee on Pete's chest while the Alpha gasped and clutched his cheek, and landed another punch to his face. Daryl winced, seeing blood. Then another punch, then another – teeth shattered, cheekbone caved in, so much _blood_.

It was calculated but it wasn't removed. This was anger – pure, volatile _hate_ , coursing through whatever made up the thing's blood. It looks at Pete and felt anger, righteous rage, over whatever slight Pete had caused it. Maybe for the man's treatment of Jessie and Ron. Maybe the threat to Daryl's wellbeing. Maybe the implied threat to Carl. Maybe all of it.

Daryl held onto Carl tightly and took a step back when the android straightened. There was blood on his knuckles and it had splattered across his t-shirt and his face. He turned and blinked at Daryl and Carl and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing it more.

It was then that Shane's car pulled up with another police car right behind it, sirens blaring, and the second meagre audience that had gathered scattered like a mess of cockroaches when exposed to light. The android tilted his head up defiantly as the policeman got out of his car and approached, gun out and ready, Shane close behind.

Shane immediately went to Daryl and Carl.

The android fixed his eyes on the cop and held his hands up in surrender. "This Alpha threatened my mate and child," he said smoothly, without guilt, without shame. Slowly the cop started to lower his gun. "Tried to claim my Omega right from under me as well. I would also charge him with assault on his wife and Alpha child, if you're making a list."

The cop hesitated, looking to Shane for advice, and Shane trapped his tongue between his teeth and nodded. "It's true," he said. "They're mated." He gestured for the android to come over to them. Alpha-Alpha disputes weren't very common anymore, but the laws were strict and clear. Fights for Omegas didn't classify as assault and with another Alpha backing him up, the android's story would stick. There were witnesses.

"Alright, buddy, up ya get," the cop said, holstering his gun and hauling Pete to his feet. The Alpha was almost unconscious as the policeman cuffed him and led him to the ambulance. "You folks have a nice day."

"Rick, get the fuck over here, man," Shane said, his voice thick with worry. He reached out and clapped a hand on his shoulder. The android wasn't looking at him – his eyes were fixed on Daryl, and Daryl was helpless but to look right back.

Slowly, he reached out and brushed his thumb across Daryl's bruised jaw. Daryl didn't even think about flinching away. "Are you alright?" he murmured, and brushed his fingers along Daryl's jaw so tenderly that for a moment Daryl wasn't sure what would be more accurate to say.

He swallowed, tasting blood, and cleared his throat and nodded, stepping back. "Thank you," he said.

"We can have this conversation in the car. Everyone get the Hell inside," Shane hissed, grabbing Carl and guiding him towards his vehicle. Daryl followed behind, the android a silent shadow behind his shoulder. Daryl climbed into the shotgun seat which left Carl and the android in the back.

As they started to drive, Daryl heard him speaking; "Carl. It's so good to see you again."

"Is it…are you staying? Are you really -?"

"Yes, I'm here now. For as long as you'll have me."

Daryl's throat was thick and ached from more than Pete's hand, and he closed his eyes and forced himself not to listen to anymore. As soon as they approached the apartment and parked Daryl got out of the car and ordered Carl upstairs to get some rest. Shane went to his apartment and that left Daryl and the android in the hallway outside.

Daryl should invite him up. If everything were right in the world this would be easy – Alpha displays like that, well, there was a reason they used to be so popular. Daryl couldn't fight the warm pride in his stomach – this Alpha had _fought_ for him, had _claimed him_ publicly, and even though it wasn't quite the situation, had won his mating and breeding rights from another Alpha. Daryl had a lot of instinct in him. So had his mate. That kind of thing was hard to ignore.

He folded his arms across his chest and looked at the machine, and he stared right back. There was still blood smeared around his mouth. The blood of his defeated opponent.

Daryl licked his lips and winced. "Thank you," he said again. "I don't…wanna think about what would'a happened if -."

The android nodded, sparing Daryl the pain of speaking that sentence out loud, and Daryl nodded as well and looked down. "I should go," he said, but made no move to leave.

Slowly the android reached out to him again, cupping his chin and lifting his head. His fingers spread out across Daryl's injured cheek and jaw, so gentle and almost warm to the touch. Just a little too cool, but ignorable. Cloaked in his mate's clothes, he was starting to smell right as well. Daryl sucked in a breath.

"I have waited…for what feels like a thousand years to do this," he said after a moment, his eyes on where his fingers were touching Daryl's skin. "And I'll wait a thousand more until you are ready to."

His hand fell and Daryl dug his nails into his bicep to stop himself whimpering at the loss.

"I adore you, Daryl," he said, smiling with such open joy and love, it shook Daryl to his core. "I love you with everything that I am. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you."

Daryl's breathing was unsteady, his heart hammering. He didn't know why he did it, and when he looked back on it he had to say that, in that moment, there was no reason at all _not_ to, and no will in him to resist the urge.

He took a step forward and tilted his head up, just a little, until his mouth met the android's. His lips felt soft, were gentle on Daryl's injured mouth. The reaction was immediate, one hand gently cradling the back of his neck, the other resting lightly on his side as Daryl wrapped his fingers in the grey shirt and held on tightly.

He pulled back almost immediately, warm from his neck to his feet, and licked his lips again as the android let him go and allowed him to pull back. "I'm gonna go," he said quietly, and turned away to start up the next flight of stairs.

"Good night, Daryl," the android called, and when Daryl looked back he could see the same open adoration on the thing's face as when it had first seen Daryl in the open, dry of tears and wrecked from the inside in front of Shane's car.

Daryl smiled and nodded. "Good night," he replied, and turned around and hurried up the rest of the way to his apartment.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Yay Weekend!  
> This chapter is NSFW.

Daryl woke up soaked in sweat, breathing unsteady and deep enough to cause his injured ribs to spike in pain and his jaw ached where he had been clenching his teeth together and grinding them in his sleep. One hand was wrapped around his cock, stroking quickly, his thighs soaked and making his damp clothing stick to his body.

He rolled over onto his stomach, fucking into his hand as he tightened his grip, other hand grabbing onto the spare pillow tight enough to risk ripping the fabric. It didn't stay there long, as he ran it through his sweaty hair until he could twist his hand in the hair at the back of his neck, pinching the muscle there like someone was biting him.

"F- _fuck_ ," he hissed, tightening his grip around the head of his cock and twisting, his other hand's nails digging into his nape. He closed his eyes, clinging desperately to the dream that had put him in this state. He wasn't in any position to fight it.

His mate and him, in the dark basic times their kind crawled from. The blood of a challenger still smeared across his mouth and his hands. Daryl could still _taste_ it when he'd licked his Alpha's lips in supplication and submission. His hands had felt so big and hot on Daryl's skin, gripping his hipbones and forcing him up into the classic mounting and breeding stance.

Daryl's body clenched, empty and _hot_. His slick soaked the bed and dripped between his legs. He could feel it when he ran his hand back down the shaft of his cock, spreading it up to coat the head. He whimpered and drove his hips down against his hand and the mattress, gritting his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache again.

" _I adore you_ ," the Alpha had said, in _his_ voice, the scrape of stubble across Daryl's nape, the bite of his teeth against the Omega's shoulder. Daryl shivered and sucked in a breath until his ribs hurt and tightened his hand on the nape of his neck, tugging on his hair. " _That's it, sweetheart. Let me in. Daryl._ My _Daryl_."

"Oh, oh fuck, _fuck_ ," Daryl hissed, clenching his eyes tightly shut as he shuddered and came into his hand. He let go of his nape and bit down _hard_ on his knuckles to stop himself making any loud noises. His body jerked and shuddered, too sensitive after the intensity of the dream and the orgasm. He pulled his hand out of his sleep pants, grimacing at the mess, and tried to ignore how empty his body felt without an Alpha fucking him while he came.

He forced himself out of bed and into the shower. He couldn't hear Carl moving around, or the television, or anything else, so he didn't feel too pressed for time as he shed his slick-wet clothes and stepped into the shower.

His come grew tacky and white under the water and he scrubbed vigorously at his hands, thighs and stomach to try and get rid of any mess. Even though Carl was still a teenager and wasn't old enough to pay attention to thinks like slick and pheromones, it was still one of those things Daryl determined he would never have his child smell. Maybe it was because his father and brother smelled like whatever woman or Omega they could get their hands on and didn't care who noticed, or maybe it was just because he was a private person.

He sighed, tilting his head back and forth until he felt his neck crack. His jaw still ached, but not as badly now that he was no longer clenching it and grinding his teeth. His heartbeat was just starting to slow down as he lathered up his body wash and gently cleaned away as much as he could, mindful of the blows Pete had given him that were still hurting.

Shane had wanted to take him to the hospital but Daryl had refused. Firstly, Daryl hated hospitals with a burning passion. Secondly, he'd had worse and didn't feel like he needed medical attention. But worst of all, and the main reason, was that Daryl didn't want to go and see Jessie Anderson in some random waiting room, waiting for news of her husband or her son. Maybe Pete would finally go to jail. Maybe Ron was dead. Maybe he wasn't. Which would be worse?

Daryl sighed and turned off the shower, toweling off quickly and going back to his bedroom for fresh clothes. The sheets were soaked and reeked of him and he wrinkled his nose, before gathering them up with his clothes and the towel and throwing them into the hamper to be washed.

He heard Carl, laughing loudly, and went outside.

Carl was sitting on the couch, watching cartoons. His father's hat was sitting on his head, all askew, his cheeks red with humor and eyes overly-bright like he'd just woken up. Daryl smiled, relaxed at seeing his child safe and content, before he became aware of a new scent.

"Good morning," came the voice, _his_ voice, and Daryl sucked in a breath and turned his head so that he could see into the kitchen. The android was there, its posture submission and unsure because it knew it wasn't allowed in Daryl's house.

But that was before. Before the fight. Before the dream. Daryl swallowed hard enough that his throat clicked and his jaw ached, and wondered if the android would be able to smell the mess Daryl made of his room. His cheeks went pink and he nodded, once. "Mornin'."

"I can go," the android said, still tucked up in one corner of the kitchen. Daryl could see the oven light on and smell the teasing, light hint of biscuits cooking. There was a new pack of bacon next to a pan on top of the stove but it hadn't started cooking that yet.

Carl had gone quiet. When Daryl looked over he appeared absorbed in his cartoons, but Daryl knew better. Still, he was warm at the thought that his son was giving them privacy to talk.

"C'mere," Daryl said, jerking his head towards the hallway. The android nodded and followed him out.

Daryl paused once the door closed, suddenly unsure of what to say. He sighed and rubbed his fingers under his eyes and against the bridge of his nose, blushing hard when he realized his fingers still kind of smelled like sweat and slick. "Look -."

"I know I overstepped," the android murmured, cutting him off. Daryl lifted his eyes to meet the Alpha's. They were so fucking blue, exactly the shade Daryl remembered them, even, although he wasn't sure if that was deliberate or just that his mate's eyes matched the blue glow of the machine. The android reached out to him, fingers brushing against Daryl's arm before Daryl could think to pull away, and by the time the thought occurred to him, he was sure that he didn't want to. "I know you're not….mine. That Carl isn't mine. I wasn't your mate, I've never touched you like he did. I didn't sire a boy with you. I… _left_."

Daryl swallowed hard, his throat tight. He folded his arms across his chest and nodded, blowing out a breath.

"I just…" The android huffed a breath, sounding sheepish and frustrated all at once, and shook its head. There was a small, disbelieving smile on its face. "I feel things, Daryl." He pressed a hand to his chest. "I feel things and I want to call them emotions. I feel them for you, and for Carl, and for Lori and Shane and Judith. I felt… _anger_ , when I saw that Alpha touching you. I felt _jealousy_ , and so much _rage_. And when I look at you I feel like I'm capable of anything. I feel like I could _be_ anything."

"But you can't," Daryl whispered. His eyes were burning. "You can't be him. I can't let you."

"I know I -."

"No, you don't," Daryl said, holding out a hand to stall the android's words. "You don't _get it_. What if…what if someone gets in your code like I did? What if you get shot, or crushed, or – I don't know, fuckin' walk into a Goddamn magnet or whatever. What if the world ends tomorrow and there's no more power and you can't recharge? You would… _leave_ , again."

"That was true of your first mate," the android said, and though its voice was gentle the words were harsh, biting at Daryl's nape and tugging at the harpoon lodged behind his heart. Daryl sucked in a breath and dug his nails into his biceps until it hurt. "Anyone can die, Daryl."

"You won't die," Daryl said. "You won't age. You're not _real_."

For a long moment the android merely stared at him. Daryl could feel the thing's eyes on his face, roving up and down like he was being scanned, but Daryl couldn't lift his eyes to meet that same gorgeous blue. He shifted his weight and bit his lower lip hard when the silence stretched on, and on.

Finally, Daryl couldn't take it any longer, and the smell of biscuits was starting to permeate the outside. "You should go," he said, and went back into the apartment before the machine could argue. He closed the door behind him and went to the oven, pulling out the biscuits before they burned. They were a little more black than brown on the edges, but still salvageable. Daryl waved away the little wisps of smoke and tried to tell him that that's why his eyes were stinging.

He heard Carl's cartoons shut off. "Where's dad?" the boy asked.

Daryl sucked in a breath. "I think he went to Shane's," he said, because that was the only other place the thing could go. It wasn't like it could walk around in public and go to all the old haunts, like the police station or that one bar down the road that served his favorite beer on draft. "You can go see if you can join them for breakfast, if you want."

Carl was silent for a moment. "Are you okay?" he asked, and Daryl could hear him moving closer, within the kitchen. Daryl sucked in a harsh breath and curled his fingers in tight enough to hurt his palms. His rib ached and now he wasn't sure if it was from Pete's punches or that damn _tug_ towards his mate. He nodded and tried to hide his face in his hair.

"Just gotta – gotta go do some things," he said quickly, straightening up and putting the bacon back in the fridge. "I'll be out all day. If Shane and Lori can't watch you, then…then the machine can. Tell them I said I'm okay with that."

"Okay…" Carl said slowly, and then Daryl heard him gathering his things and leaving the apartment. When the door closed he finally let out the harsh, angry sobs that had been sitting behind his collarbones since he came back inside.

The stench of his slick was mixing with the biscuits by the time he got his shit together and managed to move again. He wondered if the android would have been able to smell it, or just _known_ from Daryl's fucking hormone levels or whatever.

He grabbed the hamper with an angry snarl and walked it over to the washer and dryer, shoving the pile in even though it was too much for one load. He didn't care. He needed _noise_ , and _clean_. Now his own damn body was betraying him, making him think of heat, sweat, skin sliding together in the darkness and hands roaming all over his body, branding him. Teeth at his neck, snarls in his ear, the victory-scent of an Alpha breeding the Omega he'd just won and claimed.

Heat shot down Daryl's spine and he hissed, fingers twitching. Since losing his mate and raising a child alone, Daryl hadn't exactly had any quality time to himself. Even if he did, and had the desire to go dating, it had always felt cheap in comparison. His own right hand had never been his favorite companion, not since his mate, not even _before_ his mate. It was like his mate had awoken something in him, some instinct deep-seated and strong, and without him there the fire was gone. The volcano had erupted, so to speak, and now would lie dormant until awakened again.

Last night was one of the first sexual dreams he'd had in….a while. And he wasn't dumb or naïve enough to blame coincidence. He'd seen the android fighting for him, had tasted the challenger's blood on its lips, felt the cool touch of its fingers on his face and now his body was betraying him, _wanting_ it just because it was starting to look and smell like his mate.

"You're a Goddamn mess," Daryl whispered to himself, shaking his head. His body thrummed as though in agreement. He was restless and his thoughts were in a whirl. Once he was sure Carl was securely in Shane and Lori's apartment and he was unlikely to run into any familiar faces, he grabbed his jacket and shoes and went outside.

Although he hadn't actively thought about it, he found himself with a particular destination in mind before he was aware of heading in that direction. Despite all of his preconceptions and his aversion to the place, the hospital looked welcoming enough as he approached it. Maybe because the last time he had been here was when Judith was born – the happy memory was enough to coat his natural aversion to the place enough for him to walk inside.

He ambled in, hands in his pockets, head down, idly toying with his phone in his jacket pocket as he made his way inside. Before he knew it he found himself in the children's ward. There were painted lines on the floor directing people to other parts of the building. Down the main hallway he saw two policemen sitting at a little table outside of the last room on the left.

He walked down the hallway, trying to catch the cops' faces. He recognized one of them vaguely as the man who had arrested Pete. That cop looked up when he noticed Daryl approaching, eyes narrowing in recognition.

"Is this Ron Anderson's room?" Daryl asked quietly when the cop hefted himself to his feet.

"Yeah," the cop – the last name on his uniform said _Bartlett_ – said, shaking his head and tutting. "You're the Omega his father tried to…"

"Yeah, I am," Daryl said. "And my son was one of the kids in the room when Ron…"

"Gotcha," Bartlett said, and then looked over his shoulder into the room. The door was barely cracked and Daryl couldn't see through it from where he was standing. "His mom's in there right now."

"I don't need to go in," Daryl said. "I just wanted to make sure he's alive, and okay. My kid was pretty shaken up about it, I know he'd be happy to know Ron's gonna make it."

The cop's mouth twisted in something surprised and humorous. "Your kid an Alpha?" he asked, and Daryl nodded. "Figured. Must be real proud'a him."

"I am." Then, Daryl sighed, unsure what else he might accomplish by talking to the policeman. "Thank you for your time."

He turned to leave just as the door opened, revealing Jessie Anderson. Her normally pale face was pink and puffy from crying, her hair in wispy disarray. She wore heavy, dark clothing pulled tight to her, out-of-place in the warm hallway and the inside.

"Oh!" she said, putting a hand to her mouth. Her eyes were still wet with tears, shining, and more fell out as she blinked at him. "It's – Daryl, right? May I speak with you?"

Daryl nodded, and gave one last thanks to the police officer before he and Jessie wandered down a little way away from the room. The air was heavy with sorrow, thick on Daryl's tongue, and he forced himself not to say anything as she stopped in front of one of the vending machines in the hallway. Her hand was still at her mouth like he was trying to fight the urge to bite at her nails. She noticed him watching and gave a soft, half-hearted laugh.

"Pete used to….used to hate me biting my nails," she said, humming again. "He'd – he'd say it didn't look pretty. It wasn't what _ladies_ did."

Daryl gave a non-committal hum, rolling his shoulders. "Do you know if he's…?"

"I don't know," she said and shook her head. "I don't…I don't want him to come home." At that her eyes became glassy, new tears falling and smearing her makeup. "I thought…I thought Ron would still have a chance as long as he had a father, but I realize now – I realize that _Carl_ doesn't have a father and he's such a brave, sweet young man. And having Pete around is…" She sobbed, curling her fingers against her mouth. Her eyes were somewhere around Daryl's elbow. "He was _poisoning_ my children."

Daryl nodded, blowing out a soft breath of relief that he hadn't realized he was holding onto. "It won't be easy," he said. That caused her to finally raise her eyes, to look at him. "Living without a mate. But there are people – people who've helped me – that will be there for you if you let them. I even…" Now it was his turn to huff an awkward laugh, dropping his eyes. "I have the number of a lawyer. Her name is Andrea Harrison and I think she can help you, if you want it."

Jessie nodded, her tearful eyes wide and full of something like hope and gratitude all mixed into one. "Thank you so much, Daryl. I'd like that."

 

 

 

By the time Daryl got back to his apartment it was about midday. He could smell food coming from the inside, and when he opened the door he was greeted with the scent of lasagna, and the sounds of his son and the android playing what looked like a very in-depth game of RISK on his living room table.

He paused, so suddenly taken aback by the domestic, _normal_ scene. Carl looked up and rolled his eyes. "Dad's letting me win," he complained, and Daryl laughed and closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes and shedding his jacket.

"It's the dice rolls," the android replied evenly, but it was smiling and its eyes glowed with mirth. Daryl felt a wave of affection spread through him and couldn't stop himself smiling as well.

"It is _not_ the dice rolls," Carl argued. "You're not being aggressive at all. You're letting me beat you."

"Well, sometimes the fun isn't in 'winning', Carl," the android said. "Sometimes it's just fun to play."

Carl huffed and Daryl turned to hide his smile. "I smell food," he said loudly.

"There's a serving for you in the microwave," came the android's voice. "The rest is in the fridge. I also moved your laundry to the dryer."

Daryl only hesitated a moment, pushing the two-minute mark on the microwave to warm it up. "Thank you," he said. When the food was ready he took it out of the microwave and grabbed a fork, before he came over and sat on the floor at the end of the table to watch them play.

It was immediately clear to him that the android was letting his son win. Maybe there was something formulaic in the way it was twitching its wrist to roll the dice, but its rolls _sucked_ and his moves were non-aggressive just as Carl had said. It was making no attempt to claim new territories and surrendered the ones it had far too easily.

Daryl hid a smirk when Carl let out a crow of victory at the end of the game, claiming Russia and rendering it impossible for the android to make a come-back. The android laughed and offered his hand in a high-five.

The dryer beeped and Daryl got up, resting his empty plate on the counter. "Clean up the game, Carl, and then go bring it back to Shane's," he told the boy, since he knew it wasn't his game. They had never really owned board games, preferring video games or movies to that type of entertainment. The only thing they had was a worn-out copy of _Talisman_ from a birthday gift Carl had received one year.

Carl obeyed and as soon as the door closed behind him, Daryl let out a little sigh. The android was still sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the table from the couch. It was finely aware of Daryl's presence, he was sure, even though it was trying to give the illusion of not paying attention.

"They've arrested Pete," he said after a moment. "His wife is gonna press charges, hopefully get him locked away for good. And his son survived."

The android blinked, looking up at him, and smiled. "That's good."

"Kinda wish you'd have killed him," Daryl said. "What kind of man does that make me?"

"It's natural," the android replied. "I wish I'd have killed him, too."

Daryl hummed. The dryer beeped again and the android let out a little chirp. "I opened the window in your room," it said. "Aired it out a little."

Daryl's cheeks went pink and hot. "You didn't need to do that," he replied, flustered. "Would'a been fine. Not like Carl can smell it."

"I didn't do it because of Carl," came the reply. "It was…horribly distracting." Daryl blinked, eyes widening as he looked at the android. "I know I don't have any DNA in me to want children or anything like that, but the hormones and the scent in that room made me…feel things."

"Feel things," Daryl repeated weakly.

The android sighed, closing its eyes, tilting its head back as though remembering one of the best pleasures of its life. Daryl swallowed and tried not to think about how his mate used to sound whenever he was sated, knot stuck and filling Daryl up, scraping his jaw and teeth against his mate's neck to keep Daryl squirming and shivering and coming again on his knot.

His body was starting to heat up again, betraying him, led behind his brain like a dog on a leash. He turned away and tried to distract himself by washing his plate in the kitchen sink.

The android didn't say anything else, and then Carl came back with another of Shane's board games, and Daryl took his dry clothes into his bedroom and tried to ignore the stain of his slick on the mattress as he covered in in the clean sheets, and tried to ignore the fact that with the window open, the breeze was blowing whatever remnants of his scent still lingered back into the living room.


	22. Chapter 22

Daryl woke up to a reminder on his phone that it was time to pay rent. Grumbling and cursing the fact that their apartment complex didn't allow for direct deposit, he hauled himself out of his (thankfully slick-free) bed and pulled on decent enough clothes for going outside in before he made his way into the living room. The living room table was a mess of pizza boxes and paper plates, both unused and dirty, and he grimaced at the smell.

It was late enough that Shane had probably already taken Carl to school, and his suspicion was confirmed when he saw the note next to a fresh pot of coffee (a distinctly more welcome smell) from Shane saying that he'd taken Carl to school and to "Have some respect, man, clean this place up a bit". Daryl smirked and gave the note the middle finger since the Alpha himself wasn't there to receive it, and crumpled it up to throw in the trash. He poured himself a cup of coffee and, while it cooled, threw the paper plates that were used into it as well and stuffed the boxes into the fridge for leftovers. Last night had been some sports game and Shane, Lori and the android had come up to watch it.

To say things had been awkward would be, well, it would probably depend on who you asked. Lori seemed to have taken on the position of wary watcher. She had, after all, seen the worst and the most of Daryl's breakdowns and although she was happy and overjoyed at having the android in their life, she seemed unable to fake it to the point that Shane did. Shane, if he felt any awkwardness, was determined not to show it in the hopes that he if carried on pretending that everything was normal, then it would eventually become so.

In that respect, Daryl was the wrench in the gears. It had been three weeks since the android had come to them from Milton's, from Woodbury, and maybe after five years Daryl was tired of fighting, but things seemed…better. Carl was happy – even more so since Ron had returned to school and Pete had finally received a conviction and was awaiting trial. That Harrison lawyer woman had ripped him to shreds, if what Ron had told Carl was to be believed.

There was no reason to be afraid anymore. Daryl had friends now, in Michonne and Carol and Glenn and Maggie and Beth. He could go to the school and to the hospital with Lori for checkups that Shane couldn't make without feeling like his spine was itching. He could go for pretty significant lengths of time now without feeling the crushing ache of his sadness and loneliness, robbing him of breath and bringing him to his knees.

He was still sad, of course, and missed his mate terribly, but it didn't feel like it was crippling him anymore. Maybe it was because his son and his packmates were so ecstatically happy. Maybe it was because, without permission from his brain, his mindset had started to change and become comfortable around the android. He was happy when seeing his mate's face. His chest went warm with affection when it told a stupid joke or ruffled Carl's hair. He thought he was going to cry when he saw it hugging Lori like she was his dearest sister and friend, or clap a hand on Shane's back in that manly-Alpha way Alphas did to avoid choking on their emotions.

So he was the final straw. The last piece holding onto this sadness. And there were times when his stance didn't make sense to him anymore. The thing wasn't his mate. It couldn't be his mate, because that's not how machines worked. That wasn't how souls worked. That wasn't how _life_ worked.

His coffee had grown cold enough to chug by the time he thought to check it, so he did so and poured himself another cup. It looks pleasant enough outside so Daryl opened the window to air out the stench of old cheese and beer, sighing when the crisp morning air wafted in.

His thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door. Daryl went over and looked through the peephole, before he sighed and opened the door. "Mornin'," he said gruffly, before he took a step back and allowed Lori and the android to walk into the apartment. Lori's nose wrinkled and Judith, who was slung across her chest, gave a little hiccup of protest at the change in temperature. "Hey, lil asskicker," Daryl said, gently petting over the baby's wisp of hair before he moved away.

"Daryl, _please_ do not call her that once she's old enough to talk," Lori complained, cradling Judith's head with her palm and kissing her forehead lightly. Judith subsided with a burble, eyes closing. Daryl threw her a wink and cradled his fresh cup of coffee to his chest, leaning against the counter. He tried to resist looking for too long at the android but it was becoming a habit of avoidance now. If he didn't see the thing, didn't look into its eyes, he didn't have to deal with what he felt when he did so.

Because that was the other thing making it awkward. Since Daryl's far-too-sexual dream, he had been unable to look at the android and feel nothing. Sometimes it was sadness, sometimes it was bitter anger, but now more often than not he looked at the thing as though it _was_ his mate. Clothed in his mate's old wardrobe, it smelled impossibly like him. It mimicked his mannerisms too well, right down to the way he'd smirk when a particularly dark and dirty thought crossed his mind, or the way his eyes would go hooded when he was drunk or relaxed. It could look at Daryl like it would consume him alive.

Daryl shifted his weight, his cheeks turning pink, and darkening more when he realized that Lori wouldn't be able to smell his pheromones, but the android definitely could. He cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee and cursed himself for opening a window. "Just wanted to swing by, or?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

The android smiled. "Lori and I were going to take a walk around the park and we wondered if you would like to join us."

Daryl blinked at them, before setting his cup down on the counter. "Are you serious?" he demanded, glaring at the two of them. "What if someone recognizes him?" he asked, gesturing towards the android but looking at Lori. "How the fuck you gonna explain a dead cop walkin' around good as new?"

Lori rolled her eyes. " _If_ anyone recognizes him," she said in that overly-calm way someone talked when trying to reason with an overemotional person, "then we will either say he went undercover and had to pretend he was dead, doing something in Atlanta, or we'll say it's Rick's brother or something." She shrugged, cradling Judith carefully as she did so. "It's no big deal, Daryl. Literally no one will care unless they knew Rick personally and frankly there aren't a lot of people like that outside of the force."

Daryl felt like he could do nothing but blink at them, mouth open with shock. A brother? That wouldn't work. The android looked _exactly_ like him, no one would believe that unless they said a twin, and even then it was something they could easily check. But…undercover…sounded almost plausible. A stint in Atlanta, deep underground, no whispers of anything. And just suddenly back.

"I _have_ been outside before," the android said quietly. Its posture was submissive again, trying to make itself seem as little a threat as possible to Daryl, shoulders tucked up and head down. It shifted its weight and managed a small smile. "My stunt with Pete wasn't exactly private. People are going to see my face, Daryl, see _his_ face. I think the undercover story works best. People won't ask too many questions."

Daryl swallowed hard, his hands rubbing awkwardly down his sides before he drew in a breath and nodded. "Okay, sure," he said. "Gotta run by the bank, but yeah, I'll come."

"Great," Lori said brightly as Daryl went back into his room. He didn't need anything from in there, except a moment alone. As soon as the door closed behind him he leaned his back against it and tried to draw in as many deep, even breaths as he could.

This was going to be different. Pretending it was actually him was going to be…different. It wasn't a case of blurring that line anymore. The line was gone, the protective screen peeled off. If anyone asked, Daryl had to pretend that it was his friend the whole time. What if they ran into Michonne, or Carol? They'd know the truth. They'd know the android was a fake. They'd _know_ , or they'd think that Lori and Daryl were very good actors, and then they'd hate them.

Or Daryl could pretend he didn't know. He didn't know his mate was undercover, or when he'd be back. It was the perfect excuse to allow himself to be cold, and distant, as he needed to be when they were outside so that he could keep his heart from doing the swan dive onto concrete it was so intent on doing. He sucked in another breath and nodded to himself, intent on ignoring his feelings, burying them down behind the wisps of anger and bitterness he still had, and went back out into the living room.

 

 

 

The lines at the bank were longer than he expected, and Daryl felt himself getting jittery the longer they waited inside. He was no fan of lines or large groups of people, but he felt like each person who gave them a passing glance _knew_. They knew the android wasn't real. They knew Daryl and Lori were liars, and fakers. They knew _everything_.

When it was their turn and Daryl was finished with his deposit, he blew out a breath and hurried out as fast as he could and almost bowled Carol right over when exiting the bank.

"Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry!" he said, catching her before she could fall and pulling her upright.

She grinned at him and huffed. "Don't like, Pookie, you just wanted to sweep me off my feet!" she said with a wink, making Daryl blush and lower his eyes.

"Daryl!" Sophia cried, visible now at her mother's legs, and launched herself into his arms. Daryl huffed a surprised breath, shocked that she even remembered him, and hauled her up to sit on his hip. Carol's grin widened.

"You heading in, or out?" Carol asked, but her sentence was silenced when Lori and the android piled out of the bank behind Daryl. Lori smiled and gave a warm greeting, pulling Carol in for a kiss on the cheek.

Carol's eyebrows went up and she cleared her throat. "Lori…" she said uneasily.

"Carol," Lori said breathlessly, holding an arm out to get them all to move to a place that was less in the way of pedestrian traffic. "I have so much to catch you up on."

"Clearly," Carol said, sounding unimpressed as she looked at the android. Daryl realized that Carol had probably seen a picture of his mate from Lori at some point, and recognized exactly who the android was mimicking. To her credit, Carol was quick to recover as though nothing was wrong, but the uneasiness hung over Daryl's head like a dark cloud. "Coffee later?"

"Of course, I'll text you!" Lori said brightly. They were both women of the suburbs, able to breeze past any awkwardness with overly-wide smiles and happy invitations to more private venues. "Great seeing you."

"And you," Carol said. Sophia squirmed enough that Daryl put her down, sensing her mother's need to part from the rest of the group. "I'll see you later!"

Daryl watched them go, hurrying into the bank. "Well, fuck," he hissed, and then turned and started walking. Lori hurried to walk by his side and the android brought up the rear, keeping pace behind them. "She saw him. She _knew_."

"Well of course she knew," Lori said with a huff. "But…Daryl will you _please_ slow down?"

Daryl stopped, humming an apology. He dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket and pulled the halves tightly around him. "What do you think she'll do?" he asked, unable to hide the worry from his voice.

"Why would she do anything?" Lori asked. "Daryl, we're not doing anything _illegal_."

"She'll think we lied," Daryl said. "If we tell her that undercover shit she'll think we _lied_ to her."

"Then we tell her the truth!" Lori said with an impatient huff. "Honestly, Daryl, Carol is one of my closest friends and one of the most understanding people I've ever met. We'll just tell her the truth. It's not like you _meant_ for this to happen."

Daryl looked to his left, towards the android. It was looking away from the both of them, across the street as though ignoring them but Daryl knew it was listening. It was always listening. "Hey," he said, and it blinked and looked back at him and Daryl had to take a moment to recover from the precise, gorgeous blue that so perfectly mimicked his mate's. "What do you think we should do?"

The android's eyes flickered as its white matrix flowed behind it, before it blinked and smiled between Daryl and Lori. "I think Carol would surprise you with her reaction to telling her the truth," it said. "The undercover story should be reserved for strangers and people you don't care about. As Lori said," he nodded to her, "my existence does not violate any laws. There is nothing she can really do to harm you, Daryl."

"Just wait until I have coffee with her before you decide anything rash," Lori said, reaching out and laying a comforting hand on Daryl's arm. She smiled when he looked at her, and he realized belatedly that tearing his eyes away from those of the android's was one of the hardest things he'd had to do in a long while. "Promise me?"

Daryl huffed, but nodded. "Yeah, I promise."

 

 

 

Daryl's thoughts were in a whirl by the time night fell and Carl was in bed. The android had stayed with him to play another board game and left after dinner, and Daryl had helped him with his homework before sending him off to bed. It was like so little had changed. Daryl's chest was warm and tight, like his skin no longer fit, like he needed a second person now to complete him and contain whatever he was feeling.

Lori hadn't texted him until late that night, telling him that she'd decided to tell Carol the truth and that Carol had understood, but wanted to ask them about it after the next meeting between the group. Daryl had reluctantly agreed, but he felt like he had no choice otherwise. Lori and Carol were not women he would take up against lightly.

Having spent all day with the android and having the android in his apartment for a significant amount of time had etched the thing's scent deeply into his living space. His bedroom was better but conjured up other thoughts, and the closet in which his things used to be kept didn't help the situation. His scent was on Daryl's hands, in his hair as though he himself had put it there, had rubbed his cheek on Daryl's shoulder or relearned the shape of Daryl's hips with his hands.

The night before, Daryl had not been blameless. He had been unable to shake the memory of his mate from his mind, but now the memories and thoughts came with intent, hunting him like a primal chase. He remembered the way the android had sighed at him, the way it mimicked perfectly the relaxed slope of his shoulders, the flex of tendons in his neck that Daryl had so often used to lick and nip at. Daryl remembered the marks he would leave on his mate and found himself wondering if the android would bruise, if it could scar. If Daryl marked it, would that mark linger? Would it even be made in the first place?

Growling to himself, he rolled over and shoved a pillow over his head in the hope that he might suffocate himself to sleep before his body started betraying him again. On his stomach, though, he couldn't stop himself thinking of the many nights they'd shared, with Daryl worn out trying to wait up for his mate only for him to come in at the small hours of the morning. Daryl always woke up when the front door opened but he'd be too tired or too sly to reveal he was awake. His mate always knew, though. Maybe he could smell it, or maybe he just knew from the rhythm of Daryl's breathing or the pulse of his heart.

He would shed his uniform and climb into bed. If the shift had been taxing, either emotionally or physically, he would curl up under the covers behind Daryl and gather him into his arms, his nose in Daryl's hair, his scent satisfied as though he had been searching for one specific thing and finally found it. Those nights were wonderful, where Daryl could fall asleep to the sound of his mate's heartbeat and soak in his warmth like a basking cat.

Some nights would leave him jittery and high, unable to sleep. He'd be running on adrenaline, or victory, the stink of him enough to rouse Daryl to something that could give a little more participation that cuddling. The victor-scent of an Alpha was like being drunk and happy, and when Daryl smelled it he knew that anything was possible with his mate by his side. And his mate would cover him, nip at his neck, growl at him until Daryl whimpered and lifted his hips in readiness. Those kinds of nights were wild, cloaked in darkness, the two of them grinding together until there was no part of his mate that Daryl had not touched, had not marked in some way, and no place on him that had not been claimed as well.

It was on one such night, Daryl was sure, that they had conceived Carl.

Daryl hissed at himself, annoyed at how hot his body had started to run as he tripped and stumbled down memory lane. He refused to touch himself even though every part of him was aching. He refused to think of the way the android sounded, how he moved, how his lips had felt when Daryl kissed him in the hallway after Pete's attack. He refused to let himself think about that one moment, during the watch party, where the android had come into the kitchen to grab a beer for Shane and Daryl had felt his presence like a psychical thing. He refused to think about how badly he'd wanted the android to touch him, and how when he'd looked over his shoulder and met the thing's eyes, it had been watching him like it knew exactly what Daryl wanted, too.

He didn't let himself entertain the thought of what would had happened if Daryl let the android stay the night, or think about the fact that he was running out of reasons to fight it.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bed sharing is such a weakness of mine I'M NOT SORRY.

The next meeting was tense. At least for Daryl. He was a decent enough conman and could play a part well enough to fool most, but there was definitely a tension there as they gathered and shared stories and offered platitudes and conversation that he couldn't shake. He didn't feel like Carol was watching him, exactly, but he felt an awareness brushing up against his personal bubble, like she was cataloging his every move and reaction.

The moment broke once when Glenn and Maggie announced that they were engaged, but that was it. In that moment he felt like he was looking at his son, one day. Glenn had been nervous around the group at first, Daryl could tell – just like he had – but the man had warmed up to them well enough and even though he still gripped Maggie's hand until his knuckles were white, he was more at ease than Daryl had seen him. Without their parents, Maggie and Beth were like daughters to people like him, Carol, Lori and Michonne.

He imagined Carl, eight or ten years from now – or maybe longer, he wasn't in any rush to see his son meet a woman or Omega (or Alpha if he swung that way) at the altar. He could see him, those bright eyes he'd inherited from his father glowing with happiness and excitement, the scent of an appeased and joyous Alpha soothing to everyone else in the room. Lori and Shane would be in the front row, with young Judith, her ring of brown curls carefully pinned underneath a bright pink hat. Daryl would stand at his side and they'd watch Carl's mate walk down the aisle with his or her father, the scent of them mingling together in a natural and harmonious way. He could already imagine Carl, emerging fresh and reeking of victor-scent from a hospital room with his own offspring, cradling the child so gently.

He shifted his weight in the chair, his throat tight, and offered his congratulations when Maggie came in for a hug. He pulled her close and took a deep pull of her scent into his lungs to ground him. Maggie smelled like Earth and coffee, her father's farm and scent merged deeply into her DNA. With Glenn's cinnamon-bread scent he was sure they'd be happily mated and their home would smell of warmth and light. Their children, too. Three of them, maybe – twin girls and then a boy.

He wondered how many children his mate would have had with him. Probably one for every year if he'd had his way. Daryl's mate had loved him pregnant, the Alpha _drenched_ with joy whenever he saw Daryl, whenever he looked at him. It was like stepping into the sunlight from a cold room or the first dive into a hot spring, when Daryl had been pregnant and seen the look on his mate's face when he'd been caught staring.

The group began to disperse after a while, when the sun started setting and the night cold started to creep in through the cracks by the windows and doors, until it was just him, Lori, Judith, and Carol left. Michonne had had to leave early for a date, the news of which Daryl reacted to with the expected wink and sly congratulations. She had hit him on the shoulder and told him to mind his own damn business.

Then it was just the four of them, and Judith – either with her spectacular timing or pure coincidence – decided right then that she needed a diaper change. Lori excused herself, leaving them alone.

"So," Carol said primly, right to the point and taking a sip of her coffee. "Smoke break while she's out?"

Daryl shifted his weight again and looked around the Starbucks. It was mostly empty, awaiting the late-night rush. He cleared his throat. "Been tryin' to quit," he replied, and ignored how the half-empty pack dug into his side, reminding him that he was a liar even about the little things.

"You don't need to be nervous, Pookie," Carol said. "Don't have to be an Alpha to smell how uncomfortable you are. _Relax_."

"I didn't mean to lie," Daryl blurted out. He couldn't lift his eyes from his coffee, sitting half-melted and neglected in front of him on the table. "It wasn't a lie. Not really, anyway. I didn't even know that… And then he was just _there_ and I couldn't -."

"Daryl, it's okay," Carol said, holding up a hand. Daryl lifted his eyes to see her face. She didn't look angry. Her expression was more of the politely curious, as though she had just met a person who was enthusiastically trying to talk about a subject she didn't understand. "Lori told me…most of it, I believe. She said your security system came to life, found a body, and moved in with her and Shane."

Daryl bit his lower lip to stop himself frowning. "I guess," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "if you wanna simplify it like that."

"Well, I'd love to hear the more complicated story," Carol said, taking another sip of her coffee. "If you're willing to tell me."

Daryl could hear her practically buzzing with curiosity, and he sighed. "I'm not like you," he said, finally. "I'm not…I can't be on my own. I just can't. I did it before – before him, before Carl, before Shane and Lori. And now I'm used to it, and I can't quit." Carol pressed her lips together, nodding solemnly, and gestured for him to continue. "I didn't mean for it to happen. It got bigger than just…just hearing his voice. It made his face. It talked like him, acted like him. I thought I could…stay ahead of it. I thought I could be _smarter_ , but I was wrong. And now it's _here_ and it's _alive_ and I don't know what to do."

At that moment, Lori came back. Judith was already nodding off in her arms and Daryl smiled at her, the expression thin and tight. She looked between Carol and Daryl and heaved a breath. "I guess you guys already started in on the sharin' without me."

"It's good to talk about things like this, unprecedented though they are."

"It's…unbelievable," Lori said, smiling at Carol, her eyes wide and watery. "I feel like…I haven't seen Shane like this in _years_. He and Rick were so close – they were like brothers, and I know -." She stopped, and looked at Daryl, and swallowed and placed a hand on his over the table. He turned his hand so that he could wrap his fingers around hers in kind. "I know they weren't mates, and it's not the same as what you lost, but I can't remember the last time I've seen Shane so happy."

"Carl, too," Daryl murmured, and found himself realizing as he idly traced the lines in Lori's palm that he didn't even flinch when she said his mate's name. He didn't feel the pang of heartache and loneliness that had become so consistent in his life. Because his mate was…at home. Waiting for him. Maybe watching cartoons Carl wasn't allowed to watch because he had always been an enabler.

But it wasn't his mate. But it could be his mate? His head hurt.

"This is a _good thing_ ," Lori said, squeezing his hand before she let go so that she could adjust Judith in her lap.

Daryl looked over at Carol. "What do you think?" he asked.

Carol hummed, pursing her lips in thought. "This…android," she said, "it walks like him? Talks like him? If you didn't know it was a machine, would you be able to tell them apart in a line-up?"

Daryl swallowed. "Smells different," he said. "Not as warm." But, admittedly, he wasn't sure he could. The eyes glowed the same. The mouth twitched the same way when he was laughing or tired or thinking about things that made Daryl's mouth do dry. He imagined it would grip with the same fierceness, growl with the same timbre, move just like -. He cleared his throat. "But, I don't know. Probably not."

"After Ed died, I moved house with Sophia," Carol said, setting her empty coffee cup down. She toyed with the handle idly but didn't move her eyes from Daryl and Lori. "Another townhouse, you've seen it," she said, nodding at Daryl, who nodded back. "Same floor plan – one of those stencil houses, you know? Same color scheme. Almost the same neighborhood in terms of schools, layout, everything like that. Sophia didn't like it. It didn't feel the same as our old house, she said. And I wondered how she could even miss that place when it held such darkness. But she came around. I felt the same thing, if I'm being honest, although I couldn't tell you if I was just afraid of being on my own, or dissatisfied with the house itself."

She waved a hand, dismissing the tangent. "Anyway, we moved in, unpacked. I sent Sophia off to school and sat in that house all by myself because I didn't start my job until that next week, and that's when I felt what she felt. The house was…different. It was the same, but it was different. It wasn't a _home_ yet. We were new there, we didn't fit in there. But it didn't have Ed in it, and for that reason alone I was willing to try toughing it out."

She shook her head, shaking the faraway look from her eyes, and smiled. "Now I love that house. It's better for us being there. It's not our first house. It's not the house I shared with my husband or raised my daughter in, but it's _mine_ now. And Sophia loves it too. And I guess my point is that – things don't have to be exactly the same to be exactly what you need."

Daryl bit his lower lip, rubbing the back of his neck just to give his hands something to do.

"Wounds don't just heal neatly, Pookie," Carol said kindly, still smiling. "They can get all ragged at the edges and even change shape before they start to close. And they'll always be there. But just because something doesn't quite fit as it used to doesn't mean there isn't space for it."

"So you're saying I should just accept it," Daryl said, but he wasn't angry. He was tired. He had a headache. He wanted to go home and hug his son. "Just…let him be replaced."

"I'm not saying that," Carol said. "You know I'm not. Stop being so hardheaded. _Honestly_."

She rolled her eyes and Lori couldn't help but giggle, stifling it behind her hand. It was enough to break the tension, at least a little. Daryl sat up and Lori smiled at him.

"He talks about you all the time," she said warmly. "He really does love you, Daryl. Just as much as Rick did."

Daryl smiled, then nodded at Judith. "Time for sleep, I think," he said, and Lori and Carol smiled but allowed him to change the subject and rise from the table. They both stood and Lori and Carol exchanged hugs.

Daryl pulled Carol into a tight hug and breathed in her scent. He could smell Sophia on her too, the little girl's vanilla-caramel mixing with the smell of coffee and wool and cotton that was Carol's scent. "Thank you," he murmured to her, squeezing her tightly when she patted his shoulder and withdrew.

"Don't be a stranger, Pookie," she said with a wink, before waving a goodbye and heading out. Daryl led Lori to the car and helped her in before he got into the driver's side and started the truck, angling the vehicle out of the parking lot and towards their apartment complex.

He left Lori at her door, after making sure she got in with no problems. Shane greeted them at the door and gave Daryl a short, one-armed hug before letting Lori in and Daryl bid them both good night before he headed upstairs.

He opened the door to Carl and the android sitting on the couch. Carl was asleep with his head on the android's thigh and he was sitting on the end of the couch, reading through what looked like Daryl's old copy of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy._

He looked up when Daryl entered and smiled, and Daryl couldn't deny that feeling that smile was just like it used to be, like stepping into sunshine or that hot spring. He found himself smiling back, and nodding towards Carl. "He been out long?"

"About an hour," came the reply, just as low, and Daryl bit his lip and fought back a small shiver. He shrugged off his jacket and pulled his boots off, leaving them by the door, before he locked the door and placed his keys on the counter. "He wanted to wait until you got home but then he fell asleep."

Daryl smiled, warmth blossoming in his chest. "I'll get him to bed," he said, stepping forward and hauling Carl up into his arms. Carl stirred sleepily but didn't wake. He was getting heavy, but with how Daryl was feeling he may have weighed as much as a cloud. "Don't leave. I wanna talk to you," he told the android before he went into Carl's room. Carl was already dressed in clothes appropriate for sleep, so he simply set him down on the bed and pulled half of the covers over his body, burrito-style.

He came back out shut the door quietly behind him, before he went to the kitchen to grab a beer. The android had placed the book on the living room table but remained seated on the couch, watching Daryl with an expression somewhere between carefully composed politeness and eager anticipation. Daryl was reminded strongly of the look on Carol's face earlier that night.

He opened the beer and took a long pull of it, tipping his head back and exposing his throat for a long second, before he righted himself with a sigh. The android hadn't moved, but Daryl could _feel_ the energy of it, and see the way one of its hands was curled tightly against its thigh.

Perhaps it was a cruel trick to play, messing with the thing like this, but it was the only role Daryl knew he could pull off with any confidence. He took a deep breath and walked around the little wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the living space, and came to a halt on the other side of the living room table.

After a moment of silence, the android licked his lips, his bright eyes fixed on Daryl's beer bottle. "How was the meeting? How was Carol?" he asked.

Daryl licked his lips. "She understood well enough, I think," he said. "And you're right – she surprised me with what she had to say about things."

"Things," the android repeated. "What kind of things?"

Daryl blinked, and took another long pull from his beer. When he was finished he heard the android let out a soft huff, almost like a growl. He couldn't see the thing's teeth but knew the android would bare them if Daryl demanded it of him.

He turned away and went over to the kitchen again to throw the beer bottle away. He heard the android get up and move over so that it was standing on the other side of the little wall. "Daryl," he said quietly, voice so serious like the weight of the world rested on this conversation. "What kind of things?"

"Just things I've been thinkin' about, is all," Daryl snapped, turning around. "Like the way you been lookin' at me."

The android's lips twitched like it was fighting off a smile – cocky and lopsided and smug. "Not the only one," he replied. The air felt _so much_ like it used to, charged and electric. When Daryl was almost in Heat and his pheromones were just strong enough to tease, to entice, but not so strong that his mate completely lost himself to the chase and pursuit. When he could still be smart and the game could still be tense when neither one of them moved.

Daryl cleared his throat, his cheeks turning pink. "Yeah," he admitted. "But it ain't my fault."

"Didn't say it was," the android replied.

"You were thinkin' it."

"Was I?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes. "If you're gonna pretend to be him, then you ain't gonna be good at hidin' from me," he said, and walked over so that he was on the other side of the wall. A mere foot of air separated them now, and Daryl felt like the air was thick and sweet as molasses. "I knew all his tricks, so I know all yours."

The android hummed, smiling. The matrix in its eyes flickered briefly, white then red before returning to their normal blue glow. "I'm not trying to trick you," he said.

"I know that," Daryl breathed. "Maybe it'd be easier if you were."

"I wouldn't," the android said, frowning.

"I know that, too." Daryl sighed. He straightened up and shook his head, scraping his nails through his hair. "It's getting late," he said. "I should hit the hay."

"Alright," the android said, and Daryl's throat _hurt_ at how sad it sounded. "Will you lock the door behind me?"

"Wait."

The android stopped, a few feet from the door, and turned to look at Daryl. There was still a wall separating them, where the bar stools sat, but the distance was so much greater as well. A few feet and a mile.

"Stay," Daryl breathed before he could think better of it. The android blinked and cocked his head to one side. "Stay the night."

Bright blue eyes flashed to Daryl's closed door, and then back to him. Daryl licked his lips and nodded. "Not…don't mean anythin' by it, but you said – you said even the presence of an Alpha is calmin', right? That's what you said."

The android opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he nodded. "Yes, when you would have nightmares," he said. Then, he turned to face Daryl fully and smiled. "My presence would dramatically reduce your anxiety while you slept."

"Then stay," Daryl said again, and took a step back towards his bedroom. The android mirrored him, circling around the barrier of the kitchen. One step back, one step forward. It was like the slowest chase of Daryl's life, the two of them moving around each other like predators gauging up each other's weaknesses before striking.

One step back, one step forward.

The android waited while Daryl went into his bathroom to shower and change. When he came back out he knew he would smell clean, pure Omega. He had never used any of the scented shampoos and deodorants because his mate loved the smell of him unmarred. Daryl, he used to say, reminded him of bonfires and s'mores and candy apples and mint.

The lights were already off by the time he came back out, and he dumped his clothes in the hamper and made his way slowly to his bed. He could hear the android's breathing, quiet and slow. The weight of another person in his bed was foreign and strange but he swallowed and slid in, curling up in the blankets and marveling at how cold the space between two bodies could get before they warmed it.

He rolled onto his back, facing the bathroom and the wall. After a moment the android cleared his throat. "Would you be adverse to physical contact?"

Daryl frowned, sitting up so that he could look over his shoulder. The android's eyes glowed dully in the darkness and he at least had the decency to sound somewhat sheepish. "I didn't mean sexual," he explained.

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

The android sat up. His silhouette was visible from the light of the outside and Daryl swallowed, marveling at the familiar slope of his shoulders, the curl of his fingers just visible amongst the blankets in his lap.

"Daryl," he breathed, "I just want to touch you. If I can't, then I should stay on the couch."

Daryl swallowed hard enough to hear his throat click. "What do you want to do?" he asked. Because he didn't want the thing sleeping on the couch. If it even slept. That wasn't the point.

The android took a breath in. "I will present the options I feel available to us both that would satisfy. I could lay on my back and you could rest on my shoulder so that I have one arm around your back. You could lay on your side with me behind you. You could lay on your back and I could rest on your shoulder. Those are the only positions that I believe are not inherently sexual and would satisfy this… _need_ I'm feeling."

Daryl considered that. "Lay down," he said. "On your back."

The android looked at him for a moment, before he obeyed. Daryl pulled the blankets back so that he could slide up against the android's side and tucked his shoulder underneath its arm. Its skin was cool against Daryl's neck and the weight of its warm, curled around his shoulders, was soothing. Daryl rested his arm across the android's torso and hummed when it held his wrist loosely in its other hand.

"This satisfy that need?" he muttered, trying to sound sarcastic, but it was hard to pull it off. He felt _content_ , the arm warm and the blankets light, the rhythm of the android's breathing and the solid, life-like feel of muscle underneath him soothing something that had long been unsatisfied.

The android gave a sleepy-sounding hum. "Goodnight, Daryl," he said, and Daryl smirked and settled down to rest.

After a moment, he let out a soft laugh. When the android gave a questioning hum, Daryl merely shook his head and cuddled closer. "Milton gave you a heartbeat."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long and I'm sorry guys. Have some making out! \o/

Daryl woke up feeling warm and contented for what had to be the first time in years. His bed was almost too warm, the kind of heat that made a person want to curl up and stay in the bed all day. There was an arm around his waist and just like that the loose, relaxed feeling he had vanished.

The arm tightened, just for a second. The android obviously knew he was awake but remained silent as Daryl slowly blinked himself to consciousness. The door to his bathroom was open, the light streaming in from his window illuminating the white walls and the blue rug that sat in front of the sink.

He sighed. One of his hands was curled up in his pillow and he tightened his grip to resist the urge to touch the arm slung across his waist. The android seemed content to let him lay there and get his bearings, both emotionally and in terms of waking up.

It felt…nice. Really nice, in fact. Too good. This was how drug addiction started. This was what it felt like when he had his first cigarette. The flood of nicotine had been almost too intense for him. He hadn't coughed but it had been a close thing, his eight-year-old lungs unaccustomed to breathing in anything more than stale house air and the open woods. By the time his mama roasted in the house fire, he was used to smoke. He hadn't even flinched.

He could feel the android's heartbeat, steady against his chest. If it were his mate it would probably have started picking up as soon as he realized Daryl was awake. Morning sex had been a guilty pleasure of theirs, whether they were sneaking a quickie before Carl woke up or enjoying something slow and lazy. There was something very primal, very satisfying, about grinding back against his mate and hearing his breath hitch, feeling him harden, and pushing down their sleep pants just enough to free up enough skin to fuck.

There was none of that, though Daryl wasn't sure the android wouldn't be receptive to it if he made the first move. His mate had been the initiator more often than not but that didn't mean Daryl didn’t get in the mood to jump him.

It had to work properly, right? In Woodbury, people had taken these androids as mates. That meant they had to be able to do all the mate things, right? Sure, a bond, wouldn't happen, most likely, but frankly Daryl wasn't sure at this moment more than he was sure of anything else.

A sudden urge to stretch took him and he pushes his arms out in front of him, inadvertently (or maybe entirely on purpose, his body seemed to be working on a frequency his brain hadn't tapped into for a long time) curling himself back into the android's embrace. It earned a contented hum from the Alpha behind him, the arm around his waist tightening again for a brief moment, before the stretch was over and they both went lax again.

"Carl up?" Daryl asked, surprised at how low and rough his voice was. He must have slept like a fucking log.

"He woke up about an hour ago," came the soft reply, and Daryl bit his lip and shivered as air skated across his neck. Damn it, his neck had always been sensitive. He could feel the android's nose pressed to his nape and imagined the thing, its eyes closed, its body molded perfectly to Daryl's. "I got up and fed him breakfast and took him to school."

Daryl blinked, frowning. He hadn't even woken up when the android had left and come back to bed? "That how we ended up like this?" he asked, searching desperately for some excuse now. If the android had overstepped his boundaries, then maybe -.

The Alpha huffed a soft, sleepy-sounding laugh. "No," he replied. "We were already like this. You rolled over in the night and started getting distressed and I could think of no other way to calm you."

Oh, Daryl was sure there would have been ways, but it worked. He didn't even remember having a nightmare. "Oh," he said, unsure of what else to say. "Got it."

"Does it bother you?" the android asked. And really, did it? Daryl wouldn't have been able to say for certain, yes or no. He _liked_ this, he liked being wrapped up in an Alpha's arms, he liked feeling safe and protected. He liked knowing his pup was safe at school, that the Alpha had brought him there and left Daryl to sleep. It reminded him of when Carl was a baby and would wake them both up, crying his eyes out, and his mate would drag his sleepy warmth away from Daryl long enough to calm him down.

He remembered listening over the baby monitor, that stupid _Frasier_ theme song hummed off key. He sighed and closed his eyes, unwilling to draw away from the warmth of the cocoon of his bed and desperately fighting the urge to snuggle closer too.

The android's heartbeat was still so steady, and Daryl could feel his slowing down too. Maybe it was matching up. Could hearts really do that, if the bond was strong enough? He sighed and wrapped his arm more tightly around his pillow, turning his head into it and fighting off another stretch.

"Did you want to keep sleeping?" the android asked.

Daryl groaned. "I don't know," he replied honestly. He didn't want to move, but he should. His body was starting to get hotter from just the shared warmth in the bed. He wanted to roll over but if he did that meant he was going to be facing the android and what would happen then?

It sounded like the android was smiling. "Whatever you want to do," he said. Daryl felt his hand flatten and his thumb rub a gently circle on his stomach. It sent a warm shiver through him and he bit his lip, fingers tightening in the pillow.

"What do _you_ want to do?" he asked. This was it. This was _it_. Maybe…maybe something would happen. Maybe Daryl didn't have to think about it anymore.

There was silence in the room, the only sound was that of their breathing and the traffic filtering in from the roads outside. Daryl felt lightheaded, like he was holding his breath, but he was sure his breathing was merely growing heavy, slow with anticipation.

"I want…"

Daryl bit his lip hard enough that it was beginning to hurt. "Yes?"

With a sigh, the android moved back, the weight of his arm leaving Daryl's chest. Daryl fought back a whimper. "Turn around, Daryl," he said, with enough command in his voice that even though it wasn't the Alpha Voice, no part of Daryl could think about disobeying. He turned, blinking when he was met with that same glowing, brilliant blue. His breath caught in his chest.

The android raised his hand and rested it gently on Daryl's cheek, thumb brushing under his eye. "I want to make you happy," he said, with utmost seriousness. Daryl bit his lip and the action made the android's eyes flash to his mouth. He mirrored the action, and Daryl wanted so badly to trace the whiteness where his teeth changed the color before they returned to that pretty pink. "However I can."

"You're good at analyzin'," Daryl whispered. "What do you think would make me happy?"

The android looked down at Daryl's mouth again, and then met his eyes. The matrix flashed white in his blue irises, flicking red for the briefest moment. Daryl wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching so closely.

His hand was still on Daryl's cheek and the touch felt _nice_. The only thing holding him back was himself. Lori and Shane had already accepted the android as their friend. Carl thought of him as his father. What was holding them back?

They remained like that, frozen in stasis, and then Daryl couldn't take it anymore. He leaned in and closed his eyes, his mouth finding the android's in a soft touch. The android's hand slipped around to the back of his neck, cupping his nape gently and squeezing. Daryl whimpered, his mouth opening and the Alpha's tongue slipped inside – just for a second, but it was enough to send a tingle of want straight down his spine like he'd touched a live wire.

He shifted closer in the bed, his hand reaching out and resting lightly on the Alpha's side and his fingers curling in. He could feel their chests pressed together, their legs entwining. Everything felt so _warm_ , and safe, Daryl couldn't remember the last time he had felt so aligned and centered.

The hand on his neck moved up to his hair and Daryl tilted his head, nipping gently at the android's lower lip until his mouth opened and Daryl could taste in return. He wasn't sure what he expected. It wasn't something that really occurred to him until he did it, until he would kiss his mate and taste the beer on his lips or the toothpaste when he'd brush his teeth before going to bed. He was sure his morning breath was less than pleasant but the Alpha didn't seem to mind.

They broke apart when there was no more air to be shared, and he heaved in a deep, shaky breath. They rested their foreheads together but it wasn't enough. Daryl leaned in again and caught the Alpha's mouth, desperate for more of that closeness. He felt the android's other arm slide under his neck and moved to make room, pressing even closer and he fisted his hand in the android's shirt around the collar.

They kissed again, and again, shifting closer and closer together until the android had no choice but to curl over him, and Daryl rolled a little more onto his back, his body singing with the heat and the electricity coursing between them. The android's breathing was getting as heavy as his was, although whether that was because he needed it or because he was matching Daryl's, Daryl couldn't say. He _wanted_. His body was burning and he knew he was starting to get slick, he could feel the familiar clench in his lower belly, the heat between his thighs.

The android pulled back when Daryl's breathing started to get unsteady, the matrix in his eyes glowing and most definitely red now. "I can make you happy," he whispered, thumb brushing along Daryl's jaw, fingertips still pressed tightly to his neck. Daryl's eyes were starting to itch, gold bleeding through. The Alpha licked his lips, wet from Daryl's mouth, and leaned down to kiss him, closed-lipped and soft, and then his cheek. "Not as a replacement." A kiss to his forehead, then down to his mouth again. Daryl let out a hoarse whimper, opening his mouth to allow the android's tongue to slip inside. "Not as a substitute. Just as I am."

Daryl tightened his fingers in the android's clothes, his nails finding the skin on his back through the shirt and digging in. His legs moved, spreading to make room. He _wanted_. "I believe you," he murmured, his voice rough.

The Alpha's smile was radiant, his joy like stepping out into sunlight. Daryl could _feel_ it, soaking into his skin through where they were touching. He wanted to feel it everywhere, wanted to sink into this Alpha completely, with a need so sudden and urgent that he hadn't felt since his mate.

"I love you, Daryl," he said, quiet and solemn like wedding vows in a church. "With everything I am, I love you."

"I know." And this time Daryl's eyes weren't just itching because of Omega gold. He leaned up for another kiss and the android met him, eager and rough, fingers clenching in his hair tightly as they rolled together and kissed. The android bit his lower lip, enticing his mouth open, deepening the kiss and Daryl let out a soft whine when the android's body slotted between his legs, rubbing against his hard cock still trapped in his sleep pants.

There was nothing to coax them out of bed. Carl was at school, Daryl had no errands or open tickets for his work. They could stay like this, rutting and grinding and kissing until whatever happened, happened.

But something was off.

He couldn't feel the android against him. There was no heat there, no erection to tell him that his Alpha wanted him and thirsted for him in the same way Daryl did. Daryl let out an uncomfortable sound and pulled away, pushing himself out from under the android's body and forcing himself to sit upright. The bed felt so suddenly cold and foreign to him and he turned his face away, breathing deep in a desperate bid to get some control over his arousal and hammering heartbeat.

"Daryl," the android said. "What's wrong?"

"S'nothin'," Daryl muttered. He wanted to flee, to lock himself in his bathroom and wash the scents and the heat away from him. He fisted a hand in the sheets by his thigh and bit his lower lip _hard_ , trying to ignore how tender and sensitive it was from the android's kisses.

"It's not _nothing_ ," the Alpha murmured, sounding impatient. Daryl turned to look at him. His eyes were still glowing with that faint red matrix, his lips were pinker than normal. The android's eyes ran over him, up and down, and he huffed a soft breath. "Please. Tell me."

"I'm all…" Daryl gestured to himself, his cheeks turning pink. "And you're…" He made a vague hand motion towards the android's lap, to where there was no bulge, no wet spot, no hint of similar arousal.

The android looked down at his lap, and then back at Daryl, eyes widening in understanding. "Oh," he said quietly, like he'd just been told some great secret. "Please don't misunderstand."

"Not a lot to misunderstand," Daryl snapped. "You're not wired that way. I get it."

After all, love didn't mean sex. The android could claim to love it as much as it wanted, but if it couldn't respond like an Alpha did then Daryl had no business having it in his bed, kissing it like that, pretending that something like that could happen – that something like that could be _replaced_.

"Daryl, please." The android reached out and touched his shoulder, squeezing gently. "It's not that. I was…deliberately forcing myself to be unresponsive."

Daryl frowned, blinking in surprise. "What?"

"I didn't know if I was…reading the mood right," the android said. He let go of Daryl's arm and gave a sheepish shrug. He scratched the back of his neck, looking down, and huffed an awkward laugh. "I didn't want to pressure you into something or make you feel like you… _had_ to."

Daryl blinked again, too shocked to answer right away. He shifted his weight and winced when he felt slick pooling between his thighs. "Well, uh, I was pretty into it, if you couldn't tell."

The android heaved a deep breath, and red in his eyes pulsing a darker color before it faded to the prettier maroon. "I could…definitely tell," he said quietly, the words almost slurring like he was drunk off the scent of Daryl's slick. Daryl's cheeks turned pink and he looked down, biting his lower lip to fight back the smile. "But I didn't want to give the wrong impression."

"But you…can, right?" Daryl asked. "Do all that stuff. You want to?"

"Daryl, even now all I can think about is throwing you down on the bed and taking advantage of the empty apartment," he said, and Daryl couldn't stop the soft laugh that broke out of him. It was something so much like what his mate would have said, with his forthrightness and inability to lie to Daryl whenever he was in the mood.

"Okay," he murmured. That was good to know, at least. Still, he wasn't sure he was ready for that, no matter how much his body wanted it. "I mean…it's okay if you show me. I want to feel that kinda shit when we're…doin' stuff." God, his cheeks must be as red as the Alpha's eyes at this point. "As long as you're willing to stop if I say."

"Of course," came the reply, vehement and fierce. Daryl lifted his eyes and met the android's for a brief moment, before he nodded to himself and pushed himself out of the bed. His sleep pants were sticking to his thighs and he tried to ignore how his belly clenched with heat, desperate to keep going back to what they were doing and then further.

"I'm going to shower," he said.

The android nodded, and smiled. "I'll make coffee and breakfast," he said, standing as well. Daryl smiled, shyly, ducking his head with another nod.

The android circled the bed slowly and they stood close together like two stray cats, testing the give, the strengths. Seeing who would bow first. Daryl broke first, as he always did, and reached out and pulled the android to him for another kiss. The android answered him, gently cupping Daryl's neck and threading his fingers through the Omega's hair.

"I love you," he whispered when they pulled away, the red in his eyes faded now to that familiar, gorgeous blue.

Daryl smiled, biting his lower lip, and kissed him one more time. "I know."


	25. Chapter 25

Days passed as days tended to do – Daryl's open tickets began to pile up until he couldn't ignore them anymore. Poor Mr. Horvath was losing his shit in his emails before Daryl finally called him about his replacement laptop. That guy in Denmark who went by codename _Delta_ disappeared off the grid again. He'd probably be in Australia when Daryl heard from his next.

He did little things and small jobs. With the android able to go into his computer and help him in his work, he soon reclaimed his name and fame as being one of the best remote guys to come to if you needed help with anything computer-related. It was nice, if Daryl was being honest.

When the android was in the computer he went still and static, his eyes glowing with white numbers and lines of code as he searched through Daryl's computer, or the one he was remoted into at the time. At those times, Daryl just liked to sit and stare at him. He looked _so much_ like his mate. Carol was right – he wouldn't have been able to pick one of them out of a lineup if he was just given pictures, or they were told to stay still. Which was pretty fucked up, in his opinion, but he chalked it up to time and distance. His memory of the fine details was at least five years old, after all, and much had changed since then.

Milton had done a masterful job and it made him wonder how many other replicas he had made. Not just randomly generated androids based on their preferences or code, but one that had come to him (or been brought to him by their owner) and he had modeled after a photograph or a video. That blonde waitress might have existed for someone, at some point. The priest, too – maybe there was a mother somewhere in the world that would recognize her son. Maybe those people had both been real. Who could say?

Daryl sighed as the android blinked, straightening up out of his relaxed slouch as he came out of the computer. The screen darkened as it rebooted, as it had to do every time the android dove into it and climbed back out.

Daryl raised an expectant eyebrow. It was late in the day and he'd already grabbed a beer, content to let the android handle this particular open ticket. He trusted the thing enough now to handle his work, and it wasn't like it needed to spy on him anymore.

"I had to reset a few things, but they're good to go," the android said, seeing Daryl's expression. Daryl huffed and tilted his beer back, taking another long swallow before he set it down. The android blinked again, looking almost sleepy. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Was waiting for you," Daryl said.

"I don't technically need to eat."

"Yeah but I feel weird when you don't, so y'are."

"Okay." The android's eyes flashed for a brief moment and then he smiled. "Don't cook."

Daryl frowned and was about to ask why when there was a knock on the door. He shot an accusing look at the android who merely shrugged and got to his feet, going over to the door and opening it to reveal Lori and Shane and Judith.

"Roof party!" Shane said in greeting, holding up his most prized possession: a spatula with a design cut into it to give the burgers a burn in the shape of a pig. To this day Daryl didn't know if it was meant to be a cop joke or an homage to bacon.

Daryl huffed. "S'the middle of February," he muttered. "Ain't hot enough for that shit."

"It's actually really nice out," Lori said, her eyes wide and bright with anticipation. "Nice enough for a barbeque. I invited a bunch of people from the group and hoped if you weren't too busy that you could join us."

Daryl blinked at her, nodding before he could think about saying no. It would be the first time he'd hung out with anyone from the group with…the android. He cast a look over towards him, unable to stop the worry showing on his face, and Lori reached out and rested a gentle hand on his arm.

"It'll be okay, Daryl," Lori said quietly. "Everyone already knows. Don't worry about it."

"Easier said than done," he replied, but finished his beer and heaved another breath. "Alright. Let's go burn some meat."

"That's the spirit!" Shane said with a woop, slinging his arm around Lori's shoulders and guiding her back outside the apartment. Judith, who had just started to grow more of her wispy blonde hair, swung her head around to look at Daryl over Lori's shoulder and gave a happy coo, beating her meaty fist against her mother's shoulder in what looked like a wave. "See you in fifteen, Dixon!"

The door shut behind them and Daryl heaved another breath, closing his eyes. "I gotta go get Carl," he said after a moment.

"Would you like some company?" the android asked, not moving towards the door but making no move away from it either.

Daryl paused, considering it, before he nodded. "Sure," he said. "C'mon."

The android smiled, putting on a pair of Daryl's mate's old tennis shoes. They both forewent the coats, trusting Lori's judgement since she would be the one to tell them if there was even a hint of cold in the air. When they stepped out of the apartment building and into the sunlight, Daryl let out a little huff of surprise to find that the air was pleasantly warm. There was a light breeze and the sun beat down in just the right amount to combat any chill the wind might bring.

"Damn," he said. "It is a nice day."

The android let out a little hum, following Daryl to the parking lot where his truck was parked. They climbed in and Daryl rolled the windows down, enjoying the stir of air through the truck as he pulled out into traffic and headed towards Carl's school.

When he pulled up to the little semi-circle where parents could drop their kids off or pick them up quickly, his eyes quickly spotted Carl amongst the other children. His son was standing with Patrick and Enid gathered close to him, the three of them sitting along one of the waist-high walls next to the steps leading up into the building. Carl spotted him and gave a nod, before he jerked his head towards the other two. Daryl gave him a thumbs up and settled back down to wait.

Carl usually waited until his friends were in their cars or safely on the bus before he joined Daryl in his truck. This was normal and Daryl felt his chest swell with pride over his protective and strong Alpha son. As he watched, another kid approached the trio and Carl lifted his head, eyes narrowed in instinctive suspicion before his face smoothed out and he wore an expression of wary friendliness.

Daryl knew it was Ron immediately. There was a thick halo of bandages around his head and he walked slowly and with a slight limp. Daryl watched him approach Carl and saw Patrick and Enid's eyes lift and widen in worry. The two Alpha boys exchanged words and then Carl shifted his weight to one side so that Ron could wait with them.

The bubble of warm pride became so big in Daryl's chest he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"He'll be a good Alpha," the android murmured, catching Daryl's attention. The Omega's eyes slipped from his son to the android in the passenger seat. The android turned to look at him, a small and happy smile on his face. "You raised him well."

Daryl swallowed and looked away, back towards the rapidly thinning herd of children. "He takes after his dad," he said.

"And his mother," the android replied. Daryl felt his throat get tight and he breathed in slowly, reaching out and resting his hand lightly on the android's thigh before he pulled it back. He saw Jessie Anderson pull up on the other end of the semi-circle and get out of the car, walking briskly over to her son to help him to the car. Carl stood when she approached and helped Ron get to his feet before passing him off to Jessie, before he sat back soon. Then Enid's mother came, and finally Patrick's parents. Carl walked over to the truck once his pack was safely gone, climbing into the back seat with a big smile when he saw the android sitting in the passenger seat.

"Hey!" Daryl said in greeting, reaching back and slapping Carl's knee. He waited for Carl to put his seatbelt on before he pulled away from the curb and headed back onto the main road. "Your uncle Shane's havin' a barbeque on the roof tonight. You got a lot of homework?"

"Nothing due tomorrow," Carl replied with another grin and Daryl sent him a halfhearted glare in the rearview mirror.

"Alright, but I'm trustin' you," he warned, sure that Carl was smart enough to do his homework on time. Another thing he'd gotten from his father was incredible time management skills. Daryl knew he definitely didn't get it from him.

"How was school?" the android asked after another moment of companionable silence. His eyes flickered. "Your syllabus looks like it's going to be an interesting rest of the year."

Carl huffed. "I guess," he said. "History should be fun, at least. And science, of course."

Daryl smiled, absently running his hand through his hair. They rounded the corner into the parking structure and Daryl drove down into the basement level where hardly anyone ever parked. It was his preferred place when the open lot on street level was full. "Alright, let's go," Daryl said as all three of them piled out of the car. Carl ran ahead and Daryl and the android ambled along behind.

"Daryl!"

Daryl stopped when he heard Michonne's familiar voice, and turned and smiled at her as she fast-walked over to them. "Thank God, this is exactly the kinda place a woman like me gets murdered," she said quietly, earning a warm laugh from Daryl and a smile from the android. Michonne grinned brightly down at Carl and held out a hand for a fistbump, which Carl easily met.

"Michonne, Carl, Carl, Michonne," Daryl said, waving lazily between them. "And this is…"

His words froze in his mouth as he looked at the android. The name was caught on his tongue, he couldn't say his mate's name, after all. Because it wasn't his mate. But what other name should it have? What other name would do it justice?

The android blinked, and then held out his hand. "I'm a physical manifestation of the A.N.G.A.L. security system that Daryl had installed," he said plainly. Michonne's eyes widened and she shook his hand as though in slow motion, too stunned to do anything else. The android smiled brightly at her. "As of yet I don't actually have a name, so you can call me whatever you'd like, I suppose."

It wasn't meant as a dig, Daryl was sure of that, but he still winced when Michonne turned her gaze on him. He ducked his head and cleared his throat. "You here for Shane and Lori's thing?" he asked, desperately trying to sidestep the awkwardness of having the android standing there.

Michonne nodded. "Carol texted me a little bit ago saying she was already here. I'm always fashionably late," she said with a smile.

"Hey, I think we beat the Greenes plus Glenn," Daryl replied, feeling a little more at ease as the four of them started making their way to the elevator. "How've you been?"

"Good," Michonne said, sliding her hands into the front pocket of her jeans and letting her elbows jut out in a childish, carefree pose. "Been trying to get on the dating scene again. Figured it's time, you know? But there's a lot of creeps out there."

"If you'd like, I can probably do an extensive amount of research and apply strict filters to potential mates in the area for you," the android said as they got into the elevator. Michonne blinked at him. "I would need a few parameters, of course, such as age, gender, physical characteristics -."

"Shut _up_ ," Daryl growled, nudging the android hard in the ribs. It blinked at him, before giving Michonne a sheepish smile. She pressed her lips together and her cheeks bulged like she was trying to hold back laughter.

"It's fine," Michonne said, touching Daryl's shoulder lightly. "You're funny. I like you, no-name."

The android grinned at her, and then the elevator doors dinged and opened. The rooftop door was accessible down a short hallway that had another door for the stairwell, and then a small step ladder led up to the exit door. It was already propped open, two bricks on the ground keeping it open and letting a draught of cool air heavy with the scent of cooking meat reach the group before they stepped outside.

There was a stereo by the grill with an iPod plugged in, playing country rock at an acceptable volume. Daryl rolled his eyes, knowing that Shane would have insisted on the music choice because _You can't be Georgian and not listen to country, Dixon. C'mon!_ By the end of the night he should expect more than a little drunken crooning. Perhaps the android would join in, if history was destined to repeat itself.

Lori and Carol were sitting in deck chairs in the sunlight next to a green bench and they looked up and waved as Daryl, the android, Michonne and Carl approached. Carl plopped himself down next to Lori and reached over to give her a hug, before he took Judith from her and held her on his lap, bouncing her gently when she wriggled and gave a complaining huff. Daryl smiled and took the beer the android offered him, swiped from the open table by the grill.

"Michonne! So glad you could make it," Lori said. Now free of the baby, she could stand properly and give Michonne a hug of greeting. Then she hugged the android tightly and gave him a kiss on the cheek that he returned, embracing her as well before she sat back down. The android and Michonne took spots on one side of the bench, Daryl sitting in the middle. "How did that date with Mystery Man you refuse to tell me anything about go?"

Daryl looked at Michonne, eager to hear. Michonne's cheeks were pinched, her eyes hooded in disapproval and contempt. "He called himself a vegetarian while eating a steak, asked me who I voted for in the election, said that Christianity and Hinduism were basically the same thing, and then said if we were going to move forward with dating then I needed to move across the city because he didn't like the commute to my side of town."

Daryl sucked in a breath through his teeth and Lori let out a similar disbelieving, wounded sound. "Damn," she said, baring her teeth and wincing. "Sounds like a real diamond."

"Plus he was like, fifty almost," Michonne said, rolling her eyes and crossing one leg over the other so that she could brace her elbows against her thighs. Daryl thought he might have heard the android give a soft chirp, like it did when cataloging new information, and resisted the urge to look at him. For all Daryl knew he really was trying to compile a database of potential partners for Michonne. Which was sweet, but unwarranted.

Lori nodded, wide-eyed and solemn. Wordlessly Daryl handed her his open beer and Michonne gave a grateful hum, taking the drink and downing half of it in one go. Daryl laughed and pushed himself to his feet, heading over to the open table to go grab another drink.

As he approached the door opened again, revealing Glenn, Maggie, and Beth. Daryl and Shane waved to the trio in greeting before they headed over towards Lori's section of the roof. Daryl grabbed another beer and walked to stand at Shane's side.

"Smells good, man," he said in greeting and Shane grinned at him, before he jerked his head over his shoulder towards the rest of the group.

"Good day for it, right?"

"Yeah, it's a good idea," Daryl murmured. "What made you wanna do it?"

Shane shrugged one shoulder. "Just…I don't know. It was a nice day, we kind of have a group of friends going again, none of us had to work…Just seemed right, you know?" The Alpha lifted his head from his monitoring of the burgers and hot dogs, brown eyes dark from the shadow of his baseball cap. His smile was small and genuine, almost hopeful like a kid on Christmas day. "Seemed like things were kind of almost normal again and I thought, fuck it, we should celebrate."

Daryl nodded, swallowing his reply with another mouthful of beer. He looked over towards the rest of the group and saw Carol rocking back with laughter, one hand pressed over her mouth at something Glenn had said. The android and Michonne were wearing equally humored smiles and Maggie's face was very red. Daryl smiled, feeling the same kind of affectionate warmth with which he watched his son flood in his chest.

"I know what you mean," he said, because he understand what else Shane was trying to say. It had been too long since any of them could move in the sunlight with any ease, and Daryl had been a big reason for that. It was hard for a pack to be happy when the Omega of it was inconsolably miserable. He bit his lower lip and dug his thumb into the damp wrapper on the beer bottle. "I never thanked you," he said. Shane gave a questioning grunt. "For taking care of me. For taking care of Carl."

Shane shifted his weight, scratching the back of his neck. "Wasn't nothin'," he said, sounding a little uncomfortable, flustered at the sudden open honesty.

Daryl sighed through his nose and nodded. Neither he nor Shane were particularly good at emotional expression and he knew that. He'd go gently. "I still appreciate it man," he said, raising his beer in a toast. Shane grinned and clicked his own against Daryl's. "You're one Hell of a friend, and an Alpha, and insert all other kinds of generic emotional shit in here too."

Shane huffed a laugh, his grin still wide on his face. "Yeah, man. Same here."

 

 

The day swept on in a flurry of delicious burgers, cold beer and guts hurting from overeating and raucous laughter. By the end of it Daryl's cheeks were red and aching from smiling and his head was fuzzy with alcohol. Carl and Lori had put Judith to bed and then Carl had gone to bed almost two hours ago and as the party started winding down, the rest of them went about their separate ways.

The last to leave was Carol, and she pulled him into a tight hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek, before she pulled back and cupped his face in both of her hands. "You're on a good path, Pookie," she said with a kind smile. "I haven't known you long, but you like this…is night and day. This is a good thing."

And right then, Daryl was inclined to agree with her.

She bid them all goodnight and left, leaving Shane, Lori, the android and Daryl left on the roof. Shane had long-ago turned off and scrubbed down the grill, letting it cool before he disassembled it to clean off later. Lori prowled over to Shane and kissed him, a soft sigh falling from her mouth as he scooped her up into his arms and kissed her back. Daryl hummed, his cheeks turning pink as he looked away.

"I think we should call it a night, guys," Shane said, somewhat breathlessly after Lori let him go. She was already tugging his hand, guiding him towards the door. Daryl hid a smirk behind his near-empty beer, reminded too easily of how eager Alphas are to chase their willing mates to the bedroom.

"Don't give Judith a sibling too soon!" he called, earning a middle finger thrown in his direction over Lori's shoulder, before he stifled a laugh and pushed himself to his feet. He set the beer bottle in the little plastic tub where the rest of them had gone and sighed.

The android stood near him, watching him expectantly, and Daryl smiled. He felt lazy and relaxed and held out a hand for the android to take. "Come on," he said quietly, waiting until the android slid his hand into Daryl's grip and they both made their way down the stairwell to Daryl's apartment.

"Would you like me to stay the night?" the android asked, and Daryl rolled his eyes as he unlocked the apartment door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind the both of them.

"Don't ask dumbass questions," he replied. The android smiled somewhat sheepishly, looking down at his feet. He'd had some beer as well, though not as much as Daryl if the Omega thought about it. Still, he knew enough to know that alcohol affected the android and he could see the hint of predatory instinct in the slope of his shoulders, the slant of his eyes when he looked at Daryl out of the corner of them. Daryl licked his lips and stepped forward, pinning the android to the wall, and kissed him.

His eyes closed and Daryl felt a hand go to his hair, gripping tightly. Daryl let out a shaky, soft moan. Since the first night they'd spent in Daryl's bed they hadn't kissed or touched all that much. The android slept in his bed more nights than not, but most of the time it was very proper, platonic cuddling at most. Daryl hadn't worked up the courage or felt a need desperate enough to have the android roll and grind against him, and of course the Alpha wasn't going to act on feelings that he wasn't one hundred percent sure Daryl would reciprocate.

Still, the moan Daryl let out seemed to be enough for him, because the android surged against him and spun them gently around until Daryl's shoulders hit the wall, and pushed his chest against Daryl's, crowding the Omega against the wall as they kissed again. It made Daryl feel trapped, powerless in the best way. He stifled a soft whimper against the android's mouth as he felt the hand in his hair tighten and twist. It was almost, _almost,_ a demand for him to tilt his head and bare his throat. He wanted to.

He fisted his hands in the android's shirt and pushed, forcing them away from the wall. The android let him go, eyes searching Daryl's face for any sign that he needed to back off, and Daryl bit his lip, his thumb brushing along his lower lip that was tender and tingling from the kiss.

His eyes flashed to the bedroom, dark and hooded, before going back to the android's face. He licked his lips and nodded and then the Alpha was kissing him again, his hands on Daryl's hips and in his hair guiding him towards the bedroom as quickly and quietly as they could.

Daryl's bedroom door closed and they parted again, climbing onto the bed. Daryl laid on his pack and the android prowled over him, predatory and fine, his eyes glowing a dark, gorgeous red. Daryl surged up for a kiss, legs spread just enough that the android could rut between them and he let out a quiet, desperate noise when he felt the android's erection grinding against his own.

He always ran hot when he drank but now he felt like he was burning. Daryl could feel his slick on his thighs and soaking into his jeans, rubbing against his skin until it was tender and sore. He let out another noise, uncomfortable now, and moved to break the kiss so that he could sit up and start pushing their clothes off.

The android followed his lead, tugging on his shirt and then Daryl's while Daryl worked on getting their jeans off. The sheets tangled around them too much to make it easy and as uncoordinated as they were, it was a far from smooth process. Daryl broke out into a laugh when his shirt got stuck on his head, and the android had to kick a few times to get his jeans off.

Once they were both bare, Daryl's hands landed on the android's torso, shaking finely. The join where his skin meshed together was marked only by a small piece of raised tissue, like a scar. Daryl swallowed, hard, and closed his eyes.

He opened them when he felt the android's forehead press against his own, immediately caught in the pretty, sincere mesh of blue and red in the Alpha's eyes. "We can stop," he said. Daryl bit his lip, his fingers absently tracing the place where the skin joined together. It felt bumpy and he wondered where he would need to push precisely to open the android up.

"I don't wanna stop," Daryl said, and it was an honest thing to say.

The android nodded, before he pushed himself more upright. Daryl's eyes could see everything – the smooth skin of his chest, the soft glow of his core shining _just_ through. Or maybe it was his imagination, the shine of the moonlight on his pale skin. He could see the not-scar, the divots above his hips, the trail of hair from his belly button to his cock. The shadows created by his collarbones seemed to move, the subtle jut of his hipbones coaxed Daryl to lean up and bite them. The look in his eyes made Daryl want to roll over and spread his legs.

He sat up and the android rocked back to his heels and they met like that, the android kneeling in front of Daryl like a worshipper leaving an offering for their God. Daryl's hands found his hair, squeezing it gently.

"I want to feel you," Daryl whispered, his eyes itching as the gold bled through into his iris.

The android nodded. "Roll over," he said.

Daryl obeyed, biting his lip to try and hide the tension as he did so. He fisted his hands in the sheets under his pillows and braced himself. Behind him, he heard the Alpha's heavy breathing and then a shadow fell across him and he felt warmth at his nape. The android's nose dragged up the back of his neck and Daryl shivered, surprised and sparking with electricity as his arms broke out in goosebumps. He bit his lip and squeezed the sheets tighter.

The android's body rested lightly against his shoulders and back, his erection sliding against Daryl's wet thighs. Daryl moved, parting them just enough that the android's cock could push between them, creating some tease of pressure and warmth that Daryl's body could offer.

The Alpha trembled, a low snarl of pleasure snaking its way across Daryl's neck and into his ear as the Alpha tilted his head and edged his teeth along Daryl's neck. Daryl felt his cock rock against the mattress as the Alpha pushed his hips down, mimicking the action of sinking into Daryl's body even though he was only shoving his cock between Daryl's slick thighs.

"This isn't how it'll go," the android said, his voice lower than Daryl had heard it before, rough with what Daryl could only remember as being pure in its lust and desire. The android's fingers ran down Daryl's arms and found his hands, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. "When you're ready, when you _really_ want it, I'm going to look you in the eye when I fuck you."

" _Fuck_ ," Daryl hissed, shocked at how hard the words were hitting him. The Alpha's cock slid between his thighs again, precise and sure, and Daryl was shaking with how badly he wanted it _inside_ him, but the android was right – he wasn't ready for that. He wanted it, but he wasn't ready for it.

He felt a shiver run through the Alpha as though it was in his own body. One of his hands was let go and the android pushed himself off of Daryl's back in a way that would have been impossible if he was human. He reached under Daryl's body and forced him to lift his hips so that he could wrap a hand around Daryl's cock. Daryl's slick had made his balls and the base of his cock wet and the android used that slick to ease the way, his hand tightening at the head of Daryl's cock and then loosening as it spread back down.

Daryl let out a soft whine of pleasure, turning his head and biting down on the android's arm. The Alpha cursed, nosing against Daryl's nape again and baring his teeth in a snarl.

"You smell so good, Daryl," he whispered. "Drove me crazy when I smelled it for the first time. Felt like I would never be happy until I smelled it again. And _now_ -."

He broke off with another weak, hungry sound. Daryl bit his lip, gasping when the hand around his cock  tightened and squeezed. The android let his other hand go and wrapped his arm instead under Daryl's neck, giving him something to grab onto and bite as the android stroked him closer and closer to the edge.

His thighs were tingling and sore, sensitive from his slick and now with the android fucking between them, he knew he'd have trouble walking comfortably in the morning. The thought sent a little excited thrill through him. It had been so long since he'd had to worry about something like that, that it was almost a novelty.

The android's hand twisted and he let out a quiet whimper, his gut tightening and his back arching up in an instinctive plea for the Alpha fucking him to go deeper, to get his knot stuck. Of course that couldn't happen the way they were fucking now, but instinct was instinct and both Daryl and his mate had had it in spades. Daryl knew he wasn't being fucked, not properly, but his body was desperate and _dry_ and he wanted to be soaked and filled by his Alpha.

He bit his lip _hard_ and gasped as the android twisted his hand again, then stroked all the way down to the base and gently cupped his balls. He let go of Daryl's cock and then Daryl felt two fingers rubbing just shy of his wet hole, teasing his rim and he felt a shudder run through him, his breath caught in his throat at how badly he wanted them _inside_.

"Fuck," he growled, clenching his eyes tightly shut. "Fuck, _please_ -. _Alpha_."

"You're being so good," the android murmured, sounding just as out of breath and ruined as Daryl was. He unhooked his arm from Daryl's neck and planted his hand on the bed, his fingers slicking around Daryl's rim as he continued to gently and steadily fuck between Daryl's thighs. Daryl whimpered when he felt pressure at his hole, one finger just teasing before being denied. "I know you're giving me everything you can, Daryl. I just need you to give me a little more. Can you do that?"

Fuck, Daryl might sign away his own damn soul if it would end this dreadful, teetering edge for him. He pushed his hands against the bed and shoved backwards, hips arching up in a desperate, silent plea to get his Alpha to fuck him.

The android's mouth opened on his shoulder, teeth just shy of biting. Daryl felt that patch of skin there sharpen with sensation, like he android was sucking a mark there. Maybe he was. Daryl couldn't _think_.

One finger abruptly pushed into him, sinking in easily, as slick and open as he was, and Daryl let out a muffled, desperate cry against the mattress, just aware enough to remember that his child was sleeping in the next room and should definitely not be woken up by sex noises.

The finger crooked down and Daryl broke, reaching underneath himself to stroke his cock in time with the android's measured, careful thrusts. The finger inside of him curled down, brushing against his prostate and Daryl howled, high-pitched and thready.

" _R-. Fuck!_ " Daryl hissed, sweaty and running so hot he might burst into flames. "Fuck, _please_."

"I want you to come for me, Daryl," the android replied, steadily but without volume, as though he couldn't spare the air. "Tell me what you need. I'll give it to you, I promise."

Daryl let out a broken growling sound. " _Bite me_ ," he demanded, and the android opened his mouth and bit down on Daryl's shoulder without hesitation. Daryl let out another low, muffled curse, his entire body locking up as the android's finger curled down and pressed against his prostate and Daryl's hand tightened at the head of his cock.

Then he was coming, spilling heavy over his hand and the sheets below him. His breathing was unsteady and juddering, like he had just sprinted a thousand miles and was finally allowed a reprieve. The android ended the bite quickly after, licking over his abused, reddened skin, and nuzzled into the nape of Daryl's neck as the Omega rode out the aftershocks.

He pulled his finger out and planted his hands on the bed, before he pulled back and Daryl breathed out heavily as he felt the android's cock pull out from between his thighs. The skin there was burning hot and sensitive and he gave a small grunt, shifting his weight and rolling over onto his side.

Without needing to be asked, the android was quick to plaster himself up against Daryl's back, his nose in Daryl's hair, breathing deeply while the Omega trembled and felt himself start to gradually calm. One arm slung itself loose and warm around his waist and Daryl sighed, smiling. He couldn't feel the android's erection anymore but was sure the thing hadn't orgasmed. If it could control something like that at will, it had probably deemed the occasion over and allowed its erection to go away.

Sleep-warm, fucked-out and still buzzing, Daryl was in no mood to fight off sleep. He rolled over and tucked his nose under the android's chin, smiling at the happy hum it let out as it moved to embrace Daryl and tug him against his chest.

"Sleep well, Daryl," he said, voice heavy with affection and warmth. Daryl smiled and kissed the hollow of his throat.

He took a deep breath, and then let it out. After all, what else could he call the Alpha? "G'night, Rick," he said, and closed his eyes.


	26. Chapter 26

In his dreams, Daryl was surrounded by a forest. He could feel the warmth in the shadow at his side and knew his Alpha was there, sticking close to him as they prowled through the undergrowth that he had called home for a long time. Realistically he knew there wasn't anything too wild around where they lived, but Daryl had grown up in the more remote and untouched parts of Georgia where there were animals that had rarely seen a human and the trees were thick, casting shadows onto their shoulders.

"Rick," he murmured, reaching out for his Alpha. "This way."

A low rumble was his answer and Daryl smiled, leading his Alpha down a slope where there was a small ravine. The sounds of the forest surrounded them, cicadas and the happy burble of the stream as they approached that reminded him of a child's laughter.

The Alpha's steps were heavier than his, slightly behind him, and Daryl felt a prickle of anticipation run up his spine. Even though they weren't running and their pace was leisurely and slow, it felt like Daryl was being chased.

His mate had never chased him, not for real. They didn't live in anywhere that was safe or remote enough for Daryl to feel comfortable enough to do it. After all, chases ended with mating – with the violent, rough, teeth-in-the-neck and ripped-clothes kind of fucking that made Alphas howl. With a chance of someone stumbling upon them Daryl had never let his mate chase him properly.

Oh, they played games. They hunted each other, in the urban sprawl surrounding their apartment. It would start with something innocuous, a text of _Carl's asleep, I'm going out,_ followed by a _Be safe, darlin', I'll come find you._ And the slow, dangerous little thrill Daryl would get at seeing a car that might be his mate's cruiser, or listening out for the rumble of his truck. It would be ducking around corners and letting his mate see him do it, or hiding behind a parked car while he listened to his mate greedily scent the air.

Sometimes it was in their apartment, before Carl, slow circles of the living room table or soft words designed to make his mate wait. Daryl, especially when he was approaching Heat, wouldn't leave the house and would let the air grow thick with his scent, and then he'd go to the roof, or hide in their bedroom and wait for his mate to prowl in and pounce.

In the forest, in the dream, his mate was at his shoulder, not touching him. But Daryl could feel the hot, desperate urge to in the way his breathing was getting ragged and brushed against his unmarked neck.

Daryl approached the stream and knelt down, cupping his hands in the cool water and then letting it trickle back out. The Alpha stood guard, protecting his mate and making sure the way stayed clear for him. Daryl looked up, towards the other side of the stream where a deer path marked a relatively clear way. If he jumped the stream he could dive for the brush, disappear into it with a decent head start.

"Do you want to run?" came the Alpha's voice, low and rumbling, and Daryl bit his lip as he considered the path. That wouldn't do – his mate was stronger and when the Alpha urge got high it could make them push past any physical limitations in a chase. Daryl wouldn't last long without taking his mate by surprise, or going a different direction where the footing was less sure.

He turned around and looked up, smiling when he saw the blue glow of his Alpha's eyes staring back down at him, anticipatory. He stood and his smile grew and he cupped his hands in his Alpha's hair and kissed him, delighting in the shivery little moan he received.

"You can run," the Alpha murmured, hands landing daintily on Daryl's flanks, but they would tighten at the first sign of withdrawal. As dependent as history and biology would have them believe, Alphas were just as much prey to the flux of pheromones and the desires of their body as Omegas were. "I'll let you."

"You'll let me," Daryl replied, huffing a laugh. Oh, he was sure the Alpha would _let_ him. Once Daryl was done with him he wouldn't have a choice. He'd be too shaky to find the ground at first and it would win him a decent enough lead.

Daryl kissed him again, moaning softly when the Alpha's hand's tightened in his clothes and tugged, begging him to press closer, to carve out a place for himself against his Alpha's chest. Daryl's hands moved to his shoulders and he pushed so that there was room for air between them. The Alpha's eyes were threaded with red now, glowing with it, his lips parted and cheeks pink.

Daryl hummed, running a hand down from the Alpha's shoulders to his chest, then further down until his fingers flirted with the jut of his belt buckle, his shirt tucked into it as it always was at the front to allow him access to the gun he normally carried. Daryl licked his lips and leaned in, forehead to his Alpha's jaw, and sucked in a breath that was heavy with the scent of his Alpha.

"I don't want to run," he admitted. A hand went into his hair and tangled gently in the hair at his nape and Daryl hummed. He was starting to wake up, to realize that the hand in his hair was very real, the heartbeat he could feel against his other hand was steady and strong.

" _Daryl_." When Daryl moved his other hand he could feel the Alpha's erection through his jeans, hot and jutting, and when he tightened his hand his Alpha let out a sweet, desperate-sounding growl. Daryl hummed, opening his mouth wide on his Alpha's neck and letting his teeth rest there and the hand in his hair tightened. " _Daryl_."

"You'd let me bite you, wouldn't you?" Daryl asked, aware enough that he was likely speaking aloud as well. He felt the Alpha give a tense shudder, arching his cock against Daryl's hand. "You'd let me do whatever I wanted."

"Yes," came the reply, without hesitation. Daryl hummed and licked his lips, and opened his eyes.

He was in his bed, the android curled up tight around him and rutting desperately against his hand. He couldn't see the android's face but knew what that expression looked like all the same. The scent of him was strong, all Alpha, as real and alive as any living one might be against him.

He pulled back and the android let out a small whimper of loss. Daryl realized he had also been affected by his dream, and his clothes, which were already reeking of slick from the night before, were wet with fresh slick, and the heat between them was making him sweat.

The android's hand was still tight in his hair but he let Daryl pull back so that they could look at each other. Daryl licked his lips and the android's bright red-blue eyes flashed down to his mouth. He leaned in and caught Daryl's lips with his own and Daryl hummed, arching against the android as they rutted and grinded against each other.

"I meant it," the android gasped. Daryl's hand tightened around his cock and his eyes flashed with a brilliant red matrix, before they went half-lidded and heavy. "I'd let you do anything."

"I know," Daryl replied. "Because you love me."

"Because I _want_ to," came the reply with a slow nod. His eyelids finally closed as Daryl bit his lip and squeezed his hand again. Even through clothes Daryl could feel how warm and solid he was, although he was sure most of that was just from absorbing Daryl's body heat.

Daryl leaned in for another kiss, before his hand left the android's cock and he grinned at the broken-sounding whimper that the Alpha let out. "Rut against me," he ordered, and the android's eyes flew open at the command. Daryl knew he would obey, but was curious as to what, exactly, the android would take that order to mean.

He pushed himself up from the flat position they had been on, on the bed. Daryl rolled onto his back and the android covered him, grinding his hard cock against Daryl's as he slotted himself into the space Daryl made between his thighs. Daryl groaned, hands flying to the android's back and gripping him tightly with his nails, just to feel how the android shuddered and growled at the feeling of getting clawed by Daryl's hands.

Their hips rolled steadily, a rhythm Daryl wouldn’t have chosen but loved all the same, and it was amazing how easily they synced into that, how easily the android sank against him. The scent of his slick was thick in the air and he could smell something else, something that was just like his mate and newer, like a freshly-cleaned house.

One of the android's hands moved from its position of being braced on the bed by Daryl's head, slid down Daryl's clothed chest and to their pants. He moved slowly, giving Daryl plenty of time to protest or tell him to stop, but when no protest came he pushed their clothes down enough that he could wrap his and Daryl's cocks in his fingers, stroking in a tight, slow grip.

Daryl shivered, one hand sliding up the android's back and into his hair to pull him down into a kiss. They were still tangled in the blankets, it was almost unbearably hot and wet in his bed, but he was too lost in the slow rut and the tight grip on his cock to give a fuck.

" _Rick_ ," he whispered, marveling at how _right_ the name sounded. It was a wonder, after all these years, his throat didn't fracture when he said the name. The sound of his name made the android shiver powerfully and let out a low, aroused sound against Daryl's mouth.

"I love the sounds you make when you're like this," he breathed, resting their foreheads together. Daryl knew his eyes were burning with gold and they matched the shade of the android's red. Every Omega had gold, or course, and every Alpha his red, but Daryl knew the shade of his eyes matched those of his mate – and, amazingly, those of this android – perfectly. "You smell _so good_."

He sounded wrecked, as lost to the sensation as any purebred Alpha would be, as though he could feel the slick friction his hand and Daryl created against him.

Daryl wanted, more than anything, to see him come.

The android had treated him so well, he wanted to return the favor. He kissed the android again, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and earning another soft, wanting growl against his mouth. "Feels good when you touch me," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse.

The android lifted his head, eyes wild, and shifted his grip so he was just stroking Daryl's cock, his hand tight and just wet enough that it wasn't uncomfortable. Daryl shivered, biting his lower lip, and tilted his head back to expose his throat.

The Alpha growled again, hungry and low, and Daryl moaned when he felt his mouth suck wet, open kisses against the exposed flesh. He knew what exposing his neck to an Alpha did to them, knew intimately how hot they ran at the scent of an Omega there and knew they always wanted to bite there. But the android held himself back and his soft grunts and moans were sounding almost pained, like it was hurting him to just be still and give Daryl whatever it was he thought Daryl needed.

Daryl let out a soft snarl, digging his nails into the android's back. "Keep rutting," he commanded, eyes closing when the android instantly obeyed. The drag of their clothes and the sheets around them made his sensitive skin flush hotly, his mouth was dry and every breath was thick with pheromones.

He threaded his hands through the android's hair and kissed him. "Tell me what you need," he said. "Ain't gotta wait. Wanna know what you need."

Abruptly the android reared back, blowing out a harsh breath, and bared his teeth. "Roll over," he ordered, and Daryl obeyed, his hands finding a good spot for purchase beneath their pillows and his shoulders and hips easily taking the weight as the android covered him.

He could feel the android breathing hard against his neck and he dipped his head forward to give him more room to bite and kiss wherever he wanted. The android's cock slid against his slick ass, rutting between his thighs, and then up and into the small of his back like he was desperately trying to find the heat and tightness Daryl's body promised him but was holding himself back with everything he had.

One hand went back to stroking Daryl's cock, the other finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers tightly together as the Alpha snarled and rutted against him.

"I want to…" He cut himself off with a low curse and Daryl let out a sweet, plaintive whine – one he knew would coax even the strongest Alpha into caving for him. Omegas might not be as strong physically but they had weapons all their own and a skilled one could crumble even the strongest Alpha into dust. "Fuck, _Daryl_ , you ruin me."

The words were accompanied by a sharp twist of the android's hand and Daryl moaned, fucking his hips down into the grip before he could stop them. When he raised them back up he felt the head of the Alpha's cock catch on his slick hole and the android let out a broken sound.

"I want to be inside of you," he finally confessed, heavy and hot against Daryl's neck. "I want to feel you when you come for me. But I know – we won't. Not yet. And that's okay, but _God_ , I would let you if you wanted to. I'd -."

He cut himself off again and instead bit messily at Daryl's shoulder through his shirt. Daryl whined, fingers gripping the android's desperately tight. He closed his eyes and did his best to arch back and give the android something to grind against as he felt himself nearing the edge. The android was just too fucking good at this, like he knew every trick of Daryl's body. Maybe he did. Maybe there was something chemical in his skin that the android could see and read like a favorite story.

"You're so fucking beautiful," the android whispered against the back of his shoulder, tightening his hand and dragging the circle of his fingers down Daryl's cock, and then slowly back up. Daryl felt his stomach start to tense up, the pressure in his chest and spine swooping down. His fingers curled up and his knuckles went white. "I'll give you everything. Daryl, _fuck -_."

Daryl had just enough presence of mind to bring his free hand to his mouth, stifling his cry of pleasure against his palm as he tensed up and spilled over the android's hand. The noise he made was drawn out and desperate, and the android pulled back almost too soon.

Daryl gasped but the whine he let out was cut short as he was abruptly rolled back over and the android straddled his thighs. His eyes were wide, a burning red, as he took his slick- and come-coated hand and brought it to his own cock, stroking quickly.

Daryl licked his lips, running his hands up the android's thighs. His breathing was still unsteady, shuddering like the first pieces of rock as they fall and give way to an avalanche. He reached out and wrapped a hand around the android's cock and took over, stroking as tightly and quickly as he could manage with the awkward angle.

The android groaned quietly, head falling forward. The glow in his eyes and his chest dimmed for a brief moment and then he trembled – one long, full-body shudder that went from his shoulders to his toes. He thrust into Daryl's hand once, twice, and then fell forward and caught Daryl's mouth in a deep, intense kiss that made Daryl's heart stutter and his cock twitch.

Nothing came out of the android's cock but soon after the android twitched and flinched away, whining softly, and Daryl let him go. "Did you…?" Daryl couldn't help but ask.

The android huffed a breathless laugh, eyes bright and a gorgeous blue. " _Yes_ ," he said emphatically, kissing Daryl again and rubbing his stained hand through Daryl's hair. Daryl grunted, biting his lip in protest, but it just made the android laugh again. "I don't have any real body fluids except lubricant and antifreeze, and I doubt you'd want either on your skin."

Daryl huffed, considering that. He supposed it made sense. "Sounded like you enjoyed yourself," he said, feeling awkward. The android flopped down onto the bed beside him breathless, and pulled Daryl into his arms.

"I hope nothing I said made you uncomfortable," he said after a moment. Daryl shook his head and pushed his nose against the android's neck, smugly pleased that it seemed his heartbeat had, for a moment, gotten a little faster. "Please let me know if it does."

"Shut up, it was fine," Daryl replied with a roll of his eyes. He didn't want to talk about how tingly hearing the possessive, brazen words had made him. It was exactly the kind of shit his mate used to say and it made him feel warm and wanted – which were definitely two things he hadn't gotten enough of and could definitely get used to again.

He threw an arm around the android's waist and hummed when he was pulled into a tight embrace. His eyelids were heavy and he should probably get up and shower (good God, did he need a shower), but he couldn't bring himself to move.

"I'll feed Carl when he wakes up," the android said after another moment when Daryl was already one foot back into dreamland. The forest beckoned him, the shadow of his Alpha at his side, only this time there was an open clearing and a steep hill and, if he distracted his mate easily enough, it would be definitely enough to win him the edge in the chase.

"Good," he muttered, closing his eyes and holding on just a little bit tighter.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotions?? Making out??? JERRY??

Once Carl went to school, Daryl and the android stayed in the apartment finishing up the rest of his open work tickets. Once that was done, Daryl sat down to eat his lunch of a frozen dinner – "Really, Daryl?" "Shut up, Rick, they're delicious" – and was almost finished when he heard a knock at the door.

The android's eyes flashed and he sat up with a chirp, looking towards the door. "It's Michonne," he said happily.

"Go let her in," Daryl said, standing up to clear his place. The android walked over and opened the door and let Michonne inside.

"Daryl," she greeted warmly, with a smile. "No-name," she added and the android grinned at her.

"It's 'Rick' now," he said, making Daryl roll his eyes, and Michonne nodded and hummed.

"Daryl, would you like to see something on my phone?" she asked, pulling it out of her pocket and holding it out for Daryl to take. Daryl frowned, taking it and swiping it to open. He blinked as he saw an app with over thirty messages in a little icon on the top right. It only had the title "Michonne", and didn't look like any app he'd ever seen before. It was the only one on the screen, so he figured this was what she had meant to show him. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"New dating app?" he hazarded, handing it back.

"Not just that," Michonne said. Her tone of voice was like she was trying to hold back laughter, desperate to make it to the punchline of a joke Daryl had never heard. "It's a list – of names, phone numbers, and addresses of every man and woman within a fifteen mile radius of my house. Between thirty and forty. With decent jobs and, of course, hot as Hell." She looked meaningfully at the android. "With a few exceptions."

The android let out a little chirp. "With every rejected suggestion, I update the database," he said. "I don't know what you find objectively attractive."

Daryl's eyes widened. "Holy shit," he breathed. "You mean you actually…?" He looked at Michonne, who was grinning. " _Fuck_. Damn, I'm sorry. That is… _so not cool_ ," he finished, glaring at the android. The machine blinked back at him, head cocked to one side. "You can't just download shit onto people's phones, Rick!"

"Easy, cowboy," Michonne said, holding out a hand and letting it rest on Daryl's arm. "I kind of _did_ ask him to. And I wanted to say…" She huffed, shaking her head. "It's probably one of the best damn things I've ever used. I wanted to tell you that I met someone."

Daryl's anger abruptly melted away and he smiled – something small and hopeful. Michonne grinned, toothy and wide, looking down at her feet. "Yeah?" he asked, nudging her conspiratorially. She was blushing, a faint tint of red on her cheeks. "Boy? Girl? Older? Younger? Alpha?"

"Boy. My age. Alpha," Michonne replied, tucking her phone back into her jeans and running a hand through her hair. "Been on a few dates. I really like him. So…" Her eyes flashed back to the android, "I wanted to thank you. And I wanted to propose a double date."

Daryl blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"My judgement ain't the best," Michonne said. "I'd feel better if you and…Rick…met him. So I know he's not a crazy."

Daryl looked over to the android, hesitating. He hadn't considered the idea of actually going _out_ with the android. Ever, really. Of course, being outside was a different matter. He was fine with taking Carl to school, with hanging out with Lori and Shane, but this would be different. This would be like acting like they were _together._

Which. They were together. Weren't they? They may as well be.

Michonne shifted her weight when Daryl was silent for a moment too long. "Think about it," she said. "Text me. I'm meeting him this Friday."

"I will," Daryl replied, and let her out. When he turned back around the android was still sitting by the kitchen counter, his bright eyes felt like they were piercing Daryl where he stood. He didn't say anything and his silence made Daryl feel all the more compelled to break it. "A date," he muttered.

"That seemed to be the scenario, yes," the android replied.

Daryl looked down at his feet, breathing in. As though with more air he could think of the words to say. But none came, and so he breathed out again. Still nothing.

"The thought makes you uncomfortable," the android finally said.

"I haven't…. _dated_ , in over ten years," Daryl muttered. "And I ain't _datin'_. I have a _mate_ , and a _kid_. It ain't…"

"Daryl." The android stood and walked over to him, taking his head in his hands and forcing Daryl to lift his eyes and meet his gaze. "I told you; I'm not trying to replace him," he said. Daryl sucked in another quiet breath and held it, unable to break his gaze away from the flickering blue even though he desperately wanted to. "I won't do anything you don't want to do. I just want to love you. That's all I want."

Daryl sighed, closing his eyes, and turned his head away. The android let him go but didn't step back. "I know," he said. "I can't think of it like a date. I can't."

"Then think of it as us helping a friend determine if her partner is a good match for her," the android replied, and when Daryl looked back at him, he was smiling. "Think of it like…like searching for bugs in a code. Troubleshooting a setup."

Daryl huffed a laugh but couldn't stop himself smiling. Sure. That, he could do.

 

 

He ended up agreeing to the double date even though he wasn't calling it a double date in his head. They agreed to meet up at Olive Garden a few miles away from Daryl's apartment and the most neutral distance between the three locations. They were the last ones to arrive, and when they approached the table as the hostess led them over, Daryl spotted Michonne speaking animatedly with a large, smiling Alpha. He had thick black hair and a neatly-trimmed beard surrounding his round face, deep smile lines, and wore khakis and a button-down that was the color of pale rose wine, which highlighted his tanned skin.

Michonne stopped speaking as they approached and it drew the man's attention, and he stood up to shake the android's and Daryl's hand before sitting back down. "Daryl, Rick, this is Jerry," Michonne say, resting a hand on Jerry's arm. Daryl nodded in greeting, looking the man up and down as Michonne, Rick and Jerry struck up a conversation about Jerry's work. The man was an Alpha – Daryl could smell that easily – and his scent reminded Daryl of barbeques and cold beer. He smelled refreshing, the startling feeling of spring in February and the warmth of one's friends gathered around. His voice was pleasant, his smile infectious.

Daryl liked him.

"So what do you do?" Rick asked, his menu untouched and his hands folded, elbows on the table to rest his chin against his fingers.

Jerry smiled. "I work at a children's library," he said, and Daryl blinked. He hadn't expected that answer. "I organize for kids to come in and read books together and sometimes we do live-action of the stories we read." He huffed a laugh. "Last week we did _The Wizard of Oz_."

"That sounds like a lot of fun," Michonne said with a smile.

"Oh, it's great," Jerry replied. "Lots of energy to be around all the time. I love it."

Rick smiled and Daryl couldn't help doing the same. It was encouraging to hear of an Alpha willingly being around foreign children – Alphas by nature could be territorial and weren't always the best people to have around for things like teaching and childcare, but Jerry's soothing scent and sweet nature seemed to be the perfect compliment for that kind of work.

"And what do you guys do?" Jerry asked when the waitress had come and taken their order. Jerry ordered spaghetti, Michonne ordered a pizza, and Daryl ordered one the size larger so that it would look believable when he said he and the android were going to share. The android didn't eat, of course, but he could take the leftovers to Carl. "Michonne's told me about you guys, it's great to finally meet you."

Daryl smiled, and wondered just how _much_ Michonne had told Jerry. "I work with computers," he said, because _certified ethical hacker_ seemed a pit too pretentious. "I work remotely, from home, helping people sort out their shit whenever something goes wrong."

"That's cool," Jerry said. "Computers hate me."

The android laughed at that, a little too hard in Daryl's opinion. He fought the urge to kick the android's foot under the table. "And you?" Jerry asked.

The android blinked. "Oh, I help Daryl out," he said. "But I'm not really employed at the moment. Daryl makes plenty of money for us and Carl." He looked over and smiled warmly at Daryl, who blushed. He had never considered himself the breadwinner of the house – even after his mate had gone, his life insurance policy had kept him and Carl fed and clothed and with a roof over their head for a long time. And even after that, he had always considered Shane to be the moneymaker in the pack since he was the house Alpha and wasn't going to kick Daryl out for missed rent payments. Still, he supposed he _was_ the breadwinner, the money-earner. It made a warm, proud feeling settle in his stomach.

He dropped his hand under the table and squeezed the android's thigh, smiling when the android straightened up so that he could drop his hands and hold Daryl's in one of his, curling their fingers together.

"Oh that's right! Michonne told me you have a kid," Jerry said with a big grin. "Well, if he ever wants to come hang out at the library, he's more than welcome. We have groups and activities for all ages."

Daryl nodded. "I'll mention it to him," he said, and then their food was brought. The wine was deep and red and the food was delicious and Daryl felt more relaxed and at ease out in public than he had in a while. He had an Alpha by his side and his friend smelled happy and content, at ease in the presence of her potential new mate.

Daryl liked Jerry. He decided it the moment the man made one of the most awful puns he had ever heard – really, it was terrible, but made them all laugh so hard that they become breathless with it. Jerry went to the bathroom shortly before they were finished and Michonne turned to them, eager to know what they thought.

"I like him," Daryl said immediately, with a firm nod. Her smile was radiant.

"He has good credit, no prior offspring or matings, lives on his own in a good part of town," the android supplied with another nod, and Michonne snorted in amusement. "He's a pleasant man. I've enjoyed his company."

"So I have your official seal of approval?" Michonne asked.

"Definitely," Daryl said. "And just let me know if we need to revoke that seal. I got connections."

She laughed. When Jerry came back, the check never followed. Daryl tried to flag down the waitress and she told them that their check had already been paid, and Daryl sent an accusing glare Jerry's way. The Alpha shrugged, but didn't outright confess, and Daryl liked him that much more.

They parted ways, the cold air encouraging them not to linger. Michonne and Jerry walked away hand-in-hand and Daryl smiled after them, before he turned and he and the android started to walk back to where Daryl had parked his truck.

"You did a good thing," Daryl said after a moment, his breath misting in the cold air. "Even though you totally fucked up any semblance of privacy by doing so."

"It seems I have a method," the android conceded with a nod, smiling at Daryl. His eyes flickered prettily in the low streetlights and he looked flushed from alcohol. Daryl knew the android could get drunk, even though he didn't need to eat or drink.

Daryl hummed and smirked to himself as they reached the truck. "Would you have done that for me?" he asked, and the android let out a curious chirp. "If I'd asked? Would you have done that for me – found my another mate to suit me?"

The android blinked, frowning for a moment, before he nodded. "Yes," he said. "I still can, if that's what you want."

Daryl shook his head. "You know it ain't," he said. "I was just asking."

"You like to ask questions with uncomfortable answers." The tone of voice was almost accusing, and Daryl laughed.

"I think it keeps me interesting."

"You don't need uncomfortable answers to be interesting."

"Oh?" Daryl turned to look at the android. They were both leaning up against the driver side of the truck, Daryl against the door and the android against the side of the windscreen where the side mirror jutted out. Daryl could see himself in the reflection there. "So what makes me interesting?"

"To me?" the android asked with a teasing smile. "Everything."

Daryl snorted.

"It's true," the android said, straightening up and circling the mirror. "From the moment I became aware of you, you fascinated me." Daryl turned so his back was to the truck door and the android could stand in front of him. He hesitated for a moment, before reaching out and pressing a hand against the glass by Daryl's head. It felt like he was being caged in, but there was enough space to move away if it became too intimate. Daryl felt a small tremor run down his spine – excitement, heat. He knew what it felt like to have the android touch him now, and with the way the Alpha was looking at him, Daryl dared _any_ Omega not to feel _something_.

"You created me, Daryl," the android said, reaching with his other hand to gently touch Daryl's cheek. Daryl turned his head into the touch and that seemed to be all the invitation the android needed to press closer, until their chests were touching and their legs knocked and then slotted between each other. "And from that moment I loved you. And I think…I think it's because of how you created me. And why. You made me from your love and your loss, and I can feel things like – like echoes."

Daryl drew in a large, unsteady breath.

"I feel things, sometimes," the android confessed, and Daryl finally opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him properly. He was standing close, their foreheads almost touching, the mist of Daryl's breath mixing with his whenever they exhaled. His eyes were that brilliant blue, like the ocean under ice. "I feel sadness. I know you miss him, that you loved him desperately."

"I did," Daryl replied. He lifted a hand and wrapped his fingers around the android's wrist. "I do."

The android licked his lips, and rested their foreheads together. "Sometimes I feel that way," he said quietly. Daryl felt another fine shiver run through him. "I've never met him, but I wish I had known him. I never will. But I know _you_ , and I know your son, and that makes me love that Alpha. It makes me want to love _you_ as much as he did. And I do."

"I know," Daryl said, his voice little more than a breath. He bit his lip and sighed, slowly. The android pulled away after another moment and Daryl let out a quiet whimper – he didn't intend to make the noise but it came out anyway and the android went still, and immediately returned to him.

"I'm here," he said, cupping Daryl's neck, and Daryl closed his eyes and wrapped his hands in the android's hair and pulled him into a kiss. The android pushed his weight against Daryl's body, pressing him against the truck door hard enough that the suspension gave a protesting creak. Daryl broke away only long enough to suck in another lungful of air before he kissed the android again. His lungs felt like they were burning, his chest was on fire. All he knew is he _needed_ , so desperately he couldn't see.

It was some strange, unholy mix of loss and anticipation and joy. _I'm here_ , he'd said. And he would be there – and he was right. Daryl had created him, from love and sadness and loneliness and now he was – happy? Maybe.

The android let out a soft growl, his eyes flickering red when he pulled away. "I should stop kissing you," he said, but didn't make any move to draw away from Daryl's warmth. His hands were threaded tightly in Daryl's hair, his skin warm where Daryl was touching him. The look on his face spoke a thousand words. He looked like he wanted to consume Daryl from the inside out – he looked _Alpha_ , as desperate and needy as Daryl felt.

"Not yet," Daryl growled back, hauling the android against him once more.

The android moaned, loudly in the otherwise quiet parking garage, and Daryl felt one hand leave his hair to grab onto the top of the trunk. He thought he heard the metal crumple in the android's hand and the _sound_ sent a spark of adrenaline right through his body. This Alpha was _strong_ , capable of ripping other suitors to shreds. Daryl had _made_ him and he had fought his way to physical form just to be with Daryl – he had conquered every barrier, passed every test, and tore and clawed his way into Daryl's life.

Finally Daryl pushed him back, awed at how easily the android went when Daryl knew he was capable of ignoring Daryl's touches completely. They were both breathing hard and Daryl's eyes were itching, bleeding gold to match the red in the android's. His entire body felt hot, simmering, he could smell his slick and knew the android could as well.

_God, it must be driving him fucking insane._

The android's eyes raked down him but the rest of him was still, waiting for Daryl's command. That warm, proud feeling returned to him, power and control unlike what he'd felt in a damn-too-long time flooding into him like a tidal wave.

"Take me home," he said, his voice rough, mouth tender. The android nodded, red eyes flashing down to Daryl's mouth in the briefest glance.

"One more kiss," he replied, and it was the sweetest plea Daryl had ever heard. It reminded him of his mate when Daryl had been in the ruinous, shredded days of his Heat, when nothing had mattered but the feeling of their skin sliding together, when his mate would beg him, _just a taste, baby, please, stay still, just like that, fuck,_ Daryl -.

Daryl licked his sore lips and shook his head, pleased when the Alpha let out a sweet, hungry whine. "Take me home," he said again. The android blinked, eyes clearing just a little but no less red, and nodded, and obeyed.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooooooo. This story somehow became 100k, and this is officially the last chapter. I hope everyone enjoyed the ride. I may add little snippets and codas to it when the mood strikes, but I can safely say this is the final piece! Thank you so much for your kudos, comments, and encouragements. You are all amazing and I love you <3

"I bought a new mattress the same week he died. I couldn't think about sleeping in the same bed anymore. I got one that was too soft – hated the damn thing, but I kept it. Didn't wanna sleep right after. Barely slept at all."

Daryl wasn't sure why he was babbling about this, except that the silence had stretched on a little too long for his liking. He sat staring at the dark, tinted windows of the mattress store in front of him. The store was brightly lit on the inside so that he could see the people milling around. There were few, since it was a Monday night and most people didn't go shopping for mattresses on a Goddamn Monday.

The android didn't respond, but Daryl could feel his eyes on the side of his face. He turned to look at the Alpha and let out a low, sheepish laugh. "Sorry."

The android blinked, a chirp coming out as his eyes flashed with the white matrix. He smiled. "Don't be," he said, reaching out to gently touch Daryl's shoulder. "It makes me happy when you open up to me."

Daryl managed a small smile in return and went back to looking at the storefront. "Shall we?" he asked, and the android nodded and got out of the car as Daryl did the same. They met at the front of the truck and Daryl took a deep breath. "I'm nervous," he admitted. "How fucked up is that?"

"Not at all," the android replied. He reached out and took Daryl's hand, lacing their fingers together. It was a small, affectionate gesture that helped loosen the little ball of anxiety lodged in Daryl's chest. "But you don't have to do this today. It'll be here tomorrow, or the next."

Daryl shook his head. "No," he said. "I'm gonna…gonna do this now. It's time I slept on a mattress I like."

They walked in and were immediately greeted by a lithe, chipper Omega with pretty brown-gold eyes and a wide smile on his thin face. "Hi guys! I'm Eric. Need help looking around?"

Daryl ducked his head, already uncomfortable even though he knew these guys worked on commission and therefore had to jump on each new customer as they walked in the door. "Need a new mattress," he muttered, redundantly, and immediately rolled his eyes at himself for stating the obvious. "One we got's too soft."

"I have no preference," the android supplied. He was standing a little behind Daryl, both to let him take the lead and not to crowd the unfamiliar Omega in front of him. It was a conscious move on his part, Daryl was sure – after all, the android wasn't the most physically intimidating Alpha, but he was still an Alpha and it was polite to give foreign Omegas a respectful distance until invited closer. One of those things people taught kids in high school and hardly any of them paid attention to.

Eric's smile brightened and his eyes glittered under the harsh lights. "We just got a new model in that has adjustable height and angles for sleeping, and can have different hardness levels on each side. Would you like to me show you?"

"Nothin' too fancy," Daryl said. "Don't need it to adjust or anythin'. We'll just…look around?" he hazarded.

Eric nodded, clasping his hands together. "Well, if you need me, give me a shout – or Aaron, at the register. He can help you out too." He left them alone with another friendly wave and Daryl let out a slow breath. He turned towards the closest mattress and pressed his free hand down on it, testing the give.

"Are you familiar with the tale of Goldilocks?" the android asked as Daryl tested the feeling of the mattress. Daryl looked at him and rolled his eyes at the android's wide smile.

"Shut up," he said, and continued to wander. There were entire bedroom sets in some spaces, the store obviously also selling bedframes and matching dresser and beside table sets in various types and colors of wood. He ignored those, and the luxurious-looking bedspreads that accompanied it.

He found another bare mattress and sat down on it, his hands spreading out over the soft patchwork of bumps that made up the padding. It was comfortable, almost as hard as his older one used to be. Both he and his mate had preferred a harder mattress on which to sleep – his mate was used to cots and college bunkbeds and Daryl was used to the floor before they'd moved in together. He smiled a little, and scooted back to lay down more fully on it.

The android stood by his side, watching him test the feeling of it. He tucked one hand behind his head and let his other rest on his chest, breathing out. This felt…nice. Comfortable. He rolled onto his side to face the android, careful to keep his boots off of the clean mattress.

The android smiled at him. "You like it?" he asked. Daryl nodded, closing his eyes and pretending that he was at home and about to go to sleep. This one was very nice, and smelled clean when he turned his head and took a deep breath.

He opened his eyes and sat up. "I like this one," he said. "You wanna try it out?"

"I don't feel things like that, as you do," the android replied, but sat next to Daryl all the same. He let out a surprised noise. "You weren't kidding."

"Too hard?"

The android's expression flashed to something rather devious before he smiled. "If you like it, get it," he said. "It's time you were comfortable in your own bed."

Daryl grinned, cheeks turning pink at the android's look, and he pushed himself to his feet to look at the price tag. He let out a low whistle. "Damn," he said. It was on the upper side of his budget, but truthfully he would rather pick it and get out than spend more time than he had to laying down on foreign beds. He lifted his head and caught Eric's eye, the Omega hovering a polite, non-intrusive distance away.

Eric smiled and approached them. "Found one you want?" he asked. Daryl nodded. "Okay. We have some in the warehouse if you wanted to take it home today."

"Sounds good," he said.

"Awesome! I'll have Aaron ring you up and get the guys to unload one."

"Would you like some help?" the android asked.

"Sure, this way," Eric said. He was probably used to Alphas offering their assistance to him when he offered to do any heavy lifting. Omegas weren't inherently weak, despite what stereotypes might say, but he was on the smaller side and lifting one of these mattresses was probably a struggle for him on his own. The android followed him to the back and Daryl went over to the register.

Behind the register was a tall, pretty Alpha who, as Daryl approached, smelled strongly of Eric. Daryl immediately knew they were mates. He smiled warmly as Daryl approached – his scent was pleasant, a mix of his honey-scented mate and his own clean, cottony smell. "Eric get you all squared away?" he asked brightly.

Daryl nodded and gave him the model number and Aaron rang him up. By the time Daryl was done he could hear the android coming back and looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised as he saw the android lifting the mattress across the display floor like it weighed nothing, Eric and another Alpha following him in wide-eyed wonder.

"Damn, dude's got some serious lift," the Alpha said under his breath. Daryl's cheeks went pink again, thinking about how strong the android was, how his hands felt when they were mapping Daryl's skin. His truck still had the dent from the android's hand and the thought of that caused another trickle of heat to run down his spine.

"You all set here? Need any help loading it?" Eric offered, even though he must have known it was an unneeded question. Daryl shook his head all the same and thanked them. The Alpha and Daryl held the door open for the android as he carried the plastic-wrapped mattress outside and lifted it onto the bed of the truck.

"You're a Goddamn showoff," Daryl muttered, and the android merely grinned at him. He reached out and caught Daryl's hand in his, pulling him into a single, chaste kiss. " _Showoff_."

"Maybe I just like impressing you," the android replied with another playful smile. Daryl shook his head and heaved a breath. They both got back in the truck and drove home, and the android hoisted the mattress off of the back of the truck and they started climbing the stairs together. Of course, the android showed no signs of physical fatigue.

They met Lori on the stairs and she stopped and stared, wide-eyed, at them both, before rolling her eyes. Daryl smirked at her, understanding exactly what she was thinking; _showoff_. "You guys just get that?" she asked, following them up the stairs as the android took the lead and Daryl trailed behind.

Daryl nodded. "Old one's too soft," he explained.

Lori smiled at him. "I always liked going furniture shopping," she said, and Daryl nodded, suppressing a shudder at the memory of how Lori had dragged him from furniture warehouse to warehouse for _five hours_ looking for the 'perfect' dining room set one summer.

"Take him when and if you ever go again," Daryl said. "I officially volunteer him."

Lori laughed, her eyes sparkling with joy. They reached Daryl's apartment and the android moved to one side so that he could open the door and let them all in. He immediately went to the bedroom and Daryl was content to let him go – it wasn't like he was going to be needed.

"Hungry? Drink?" Daryl offered, and Lori nodded and asked for a soda. Daryl got one of the Diet Cokes he only ever kept for her out of the fridge and opened the can before setting it down on the bar in his kitchen. She took a sip and let out an appreciative hum. "How're you? How's Judith?"

"Finally starting to sleep through the night, thank God," Lori replied with a smile. She took to motherhood so well, even with the obvious signs of exhaustion in her face and the slump of her shoulders. She would likely lose the circles under her eyes the more sleep she could steal as Judith did. "How are you?"

"I'm…good," Daryl said with a nod. He looked towards his open bedroom door and bit his lip. Even though they were talking quietly, he knew the android could probably hear them. Still, maybe he wasn't paying attention to them, or was willing to ignore them for the sake of their conversation. "Really good, actually."

"I'm glad," Lori said with a smile. She took another sip of her drink. "Buying a new mattress is good. Shows you're ready to make changes to make yourself happier."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at her. "Been watching a lot of _Dr. Phil?_ " he teased, but felt warmed by her comment all the same. He _did_ feel good, and even though buying the mattress had made him nervous, it wasn't out of any sense of betrayal, to himself _or_ his mate.

"I mean it," Lori said. She looked down at her hands for a moment, before she shook her head. "I always admired you, Daryl. How strong you were – _are_. Even when you didn't think you could be, you were always so resilient. I don't know how you did it."

Daryl blinked, before he shook his head. "Was never strong," he said. "Wouldn't'a made it if it hadn't been for you and Shane. Or Carl." He took a deep breath. "Had to keep going for Carl."

"And because of you, he's going to turn out just fine," Lori replied warmly. "He'll never have to know what it's like to grow up without a family. _You_ did that. Not me, or Shane." Her voice began to get thick and she took a deep breath. "Sorry. Hormones."

"Sure," Daryl said, but let her play it off with another small laugh. He still desperately missed his mate – that was never going to change. But the android was right – he had always been right. Just because some things changed, and shifted, didn't mean that the old version had to be forgotten. Things could be replaced and improved without dishonoring the original.

"I just wanted to check in. I'll leave you two alone," she said, standing and grabbing her drink. "Shane and I are going out to dinner later. I was hoping you could watch Judith?"

"Of course," Daryl said. "Let me know when I need to come by."

"Of course." Daryl led her to the door and she turned to him, before wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a tight hug. She gave him a kiss on the cheek when she drew back. "I'm really happy, Daryl. And I'm glad you are, too. I feel like….I feel like we got our friends back. We got you back, and it's like we got him back, too."

Daryl smiled. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "I'll see ya around."

"See ya," she said, and then raised her voice; "Bye, Rick!"

The android emerged from the bedroom, dusting his hands off and smiling widely. "Bye, Lori," he said, and wrapped her in a tight hug before they parted and she left the apartment. Daryl went into the bedroom and raised an eyebrow.

"Made the bed, too?" he asked, looking at the android with a soft smile.

The android smiled, somewhat sheepishly. The old mattress was propped up against the closet and they'd have to get rid of it soon, but he was in no hurry to move it. Daryl took off his shoes and jacket and walked over to the bed, sliding into place on top of the sheets and giving a soft sigh of appreciation.

"Damn, I'm gonna sleep like a fuckin' rock on this thing," he said with another low rumble of pleasure.

The android huffed a laugh and slid into bed beside him. Daryl immediately curled up against him, his head on the Alpha's shoulder. He could hear the heartbeat there, steadily ticking away, and sighed.

The android turned, offering his arm for Daryl's pillow as they stared at each other. With his other hand, he brushed Daryl's hair away from his face and settled his hand on Daryl's neck in a loose hold. Daryl shivered, biting his lip, their legs entwining.

"Thank you," Daryl murmured. "For coming with me." _For being with me_.

The android smiled, resting their foreheads together. "Always," he whispered. Even though it was the middle of the day, Daryl felt relaxed and content enough that sleep sounded like a great idea. He closed his eyes, cuddling closer to the android as he wrapped his arms around Daryl's body, and breathed in a deep lungful of his scent.

 

 

A text from Lori woke him up. It was telling him that they'd bring Judith by around seven, and that Shane had gone to pick up Carl and they were going to drop him off when they brought Judith. His phone told him it was three, so he had plenty of time to be lazy and wake himself up before having to take care of two children.

He set his phone down and rolled back over, smiling when the Alpha let out a welcoming rumble as Daryl cuddled back up to him. "Time to get up?" he asked, and Daryl shook his head.

"Don't wanna get up," he said. His head felt clear, though, so he knew he didn't need to sleep anymore and wasn't going to be going back to bed any time soon. He sighed and brushed his hand across the android's chest, measuring the rise and fall of his breathing.

"Well, then, what would you like to do?" the android asked, his voice light and humored.

Daryl hummed, closing his eyes, and nuzzled at the android's neck. He felt the Alpha give another soft rumble – this one lower, vibrating in his chest under Daryl's hand. Daryl grinned, feeling mischievous, and nuzzled again, letting his breath skate along the android's exposed collarbone.

"Got a few ideas," he said, earning another shiver from the Alpha next to him. The android turned his head and Daryl felt his heartbeat starting to pick up tempo. Even though he knew the reactions weren't exactly instinctive, they felt genuine enough, and Daryl rumbled softly in pleasure knowing that he was affecting his Alpha so easily. It was an ego boost, no matter how he looked at it, to know all he had to do was be close and give just a _hint_ of readiness to elicit a reaction. "Want you to touch me."

That was apparently more than enough invitation. The Alpha immediately rolled onto his side, one hand sliding into place on Daryl's flank and dipping under his shirt to feel the warm, bare skin there. He let out another pleased growl, eyes starting to glow red as Daryl watched him.

The android kissed him, softly at first, deepening it when Daryl rolled onto his back and let the Alpha blanket him with his body. His hand was still on the android's chest and he tightened his grip there, spreading his legs to let him fall between them. He could feel himself getting slick already, his body needing no encouragement whatsoever to ready himself to mate.

The android pulled back, breathing deeply, before he let it out. "You smell amazing," he whispered, opening his eyes which were now almost entirely red. Daryl felt his own eyes itching, bleeding gold to match. The android rumbled again, leaning down for another kiss. "If I had my way, you'd be like this all the time. You smell so good when you want me."

"Don't I smell good all the time?" Daryl teased.

"Yes," came the reply. "It's very distracting."

"I distract you?"

" _Constantly_." Daryl shivered as the hand on his flank moved up, taking his shirt with it. He sat up just enough that they could pull it over his head, baring his chest and stomach to the android's red, hungry gaze. "Sometimes you look at me and it feels like my brain just _stalls_. I can't think of anything else when you're with me."

"Jesus, Rick, you really know how to flatter a guy," Daryl said breathlessly, his eyelids fluttering as the android placed his hands on Daryl's chest, slowly dragging down. He bit his lower lip and arched his hips, desperate to get a touch on his cock which was rapidly hardening against the android's stomach. The android hummed, smiling, and leaned down to kiss him while his hands went to work on Daryl's belt and jeans. Soon the Omega was naked and the android hurried to follow suit, until they were both bare, skin sliding together as they kissed.

Daryl shivered again when he felt the android's cock rutting against his own, his cock leaking steadily as they ground together. "Touch me," he demanded, a soft whine falling from him that he knew was programmed for an Alpha to respond to – a little desperate, a little needy. The growl he received in answer felt like he was already being touched, and he let out a loud gasp when he felt one of the android's hands wrap around his cock and start to stroke.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, kissing at Daryl's neck and jaw as he continued to stroke the Omega's cock. Daryl bit his lip again, _hard_ , to stifle the whimper. "How do you want me?"

"Just like this," Daryl said, thrusting up into the android's loose grip on him. He ran his hands from the Alpha's chest to his back, digging his nails in. "Want you inside me, Rick."

The android went still, pulling back. His eyes were wide and all red now, arousal burning in him as hotly as it was burning through Daryl. "Are you -?" He sucked in a breath, the glow in his eyes pulsing. "Are you sure?" He reached out and cupped Daryl's face, holding him gently. "Are you _sure_?"

Daryl nodded, raking his nails down the android's back and leaning up so that he could kiss him. "I want ya," he whispered against his mouth, earning another sound that sounded as desperate as he felt. It was almost like the Alpha was purring, a steady rumble in his chest like a contented cat. "I want it."

"Just like this," the android said, nodding then, and he let go of Daryl's cock so that he could shift his weight. "Promised I'd do it just like this."

Daryl nodded. He wanted to see the android's face when he finally sank into Daryl – he wanted to see his eyes go wide and pulse with red heat, wanting to _hear_ the growl of satisfaction when he finally pushed into Daryl's body.

Daryl spread his legs a little wider and bent one to give the android room. One hand spread out along his knee, helping him keep his leg up, the other resting on his chest for a moment before the android pulled back and wrapped it around his cock. Then he let go of that as well, and brushed his hand up the inside of Daryl's thigh. It was a light, intimate touch that sent sparks of electricity tingling up Daryl's spine.

The android shivered, trembling finely as he circled Daryl's slick hole with one finger. It had been a long-ass time since Daryl had had anything other than his own fingers inside of him, and he was shaking with anticipation.

He let out a slow, gentle breath as he felt one of the android's fingers sinking into him. The going was smooth, his body slick and welcoming to the touch of its Alpha. He tilted his head back and away, exposing his throat, earning another growl from the Alpha rearing above him. One finger became two, merely testing the stretch, before the fingers pulled away and Daryl felt the blunt head of the android's cock at his hole.

He grabbed onto the Alpha's shoulders and forced himself to turn his head and meet his eyes. They were caught like that, _stalled_ , for just a moment, before the Alpha blinked and sucked in a hard breath through his nose, and started to push in in earnest.

Daryl gasped, his body tensing up just slightly as he was penetrated. The android didn't stop, understanding that the way Daryl's nails sank into him was meant to be an encouragement. Or maybe he could smell the desperation on Daryl's skin – Daryl didn't know, nor did he have the mind to ask.

He surged up and caught the Alpha's mouth in a kiss as his cock sank all the way inside. It filled him up so completely, perfectly, just like his mate's had. Daryl wasn't sure what emotion was clogging his throat, elation or longing or some heady combination of both. He wrapped a hand in the android's thick hair and kissed him roughly as he felt their hips connect in a gentle, final motion.

"Fuck me, Rick," he growled, when it felt like he would either implode or break down completely. The android shuddered, rearing up and over Daryl and forcing him to lay back down. The motion made his hips arch up, welcoming the android even deeper inside of him, and he let out a shaky, low moan at the feeling.

"You feel… _incredible,_ " he murmured, already starting up a slow, powerful rhythm that felt like it was shaking Daryl down to his core. It was like he couldn't stop the movement of his hips even if he tried. Daryl wrapped his legs around the Alpha's waist, urging him deeper. His free hand clawed at the android's back, encouraging him on. The bed began to creak with their movements and Daryl had never felt more alive.

His slick made the going smooth, the Alpha's cock piercing him and forcing his body to part as though he was trying to carve out a permanent place inside of Daryl's body to nestle in. He fucked in as deeply as he could, circling his hips, and Daryl let out a soft sigh of pleasure when he felt the head of the android's cock rub against his prostate. It felt amazing, the spark of energy turning into something heavier and molten in the base of his spine.

"Oh my God, _Daryl_ ," he whispered, sounding wrecked already. Daryl's sweat was making their skin slick, sliding together that each thrust made a wet sound that was so raw and rough. There was no denying what they were doing in here – the reality was so sudden, and so Goddamn _good_. "You're so tight, _shit_ , you feel so good."

Daryl let out a whine, pleasure curling around the base of his neck and spreading through his entire body. It was like with every thrust the android was lighting up each sensitive point in his whole body. He tightened his legs around the Alpha and moaned loudly when his prostate was hit again. His breathing was starting to get shaky.

"You feel good, too," he said softly, like a confession. The android trembled, a shiver running down his spine that Daryl tracked with his nails. "Fuck _,_ mm _, yeah,_ just like that -." His breath cut off as his prostate was hit again and he could feel the android reach down and wrap a hand around his cock, stroking quickly. " _Rick_ , _fuck_ …"

"You have to – tell me," the android stuttered, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. "Tell me now. Do you want my knot? I gotta know now – tell me -."

"Yeah," Daryl said, his throat tight. He didn't think he'd wanted anything as badly in his life. "Yeah. I want it."

" _Daryl_."

And then neither of them were capable of words anymore. Daryl's mouth was caught in another kiss, his stomach tightening, his sensitive body too out of practice and needy to pretend he could last much longer. It had been so long since he'd been fucked, since he'd had an Alpha inside of him and the promise of a knot and he was so _thirsty_ for it. His mouth was dry and he was shaking, clinging desperately to the Alpha and his thrusts got more and more frantic and hard, pounding roughly into Daryl's body.

"Gonna -." He couldn't get the words out, but the android understood. He let go of Daryl's cock and held his hips instead, pulling back so that he could watch Daryl, and he thrust in deeply, circling his hips so that Daryl felt him brushing against his sweet spot with every motion. Daryl whimpered, letting go of the android's hair and scratching down his own chest, up to his neck. He pinched his nape since the android wasn't in a position to do it for him and closed his eyes.

"Come for me, Daryl," the android whispered, with the same kind of adoration one might use in prayer. "Wanna feel it. _Please_."

A shiver ran down Daryl's spine and he reached down, fisting his cock and stroking quickly. It only took two strokes before he was coming, arching up with a low groan as he felt his orgasm rush through him. His body clenched down and he could _feel_ the android inside of him, thick and hot. He licked his lips, then bit them, body rolling with the aftershocks as the android's cock continued to rut inside of him, stinging that sweet spot until he was wrecked and oversensitive.

"It's coming," the android said, and Daryl forced himself to open his eyes as the android's eyes fluttered shut. He growled loudly, pulling out and fucking back in harshly once, twice, and Daryl felt his body go tense as he felt the knot starting to grow. The Alpha continued to fuck him in short strokes, like there was an itch at the base of his cock that only Daryl's body could satisfy.

Then he stopped, his knot too swollen to pull out again. Daryl winced, sensitive and sore and so unused to the stretch of a knot after so long. He didn't feel the android coming, of course he wouldn't since there was no fluid in him to release, but he could feel the android's cock twitch inside of him as though he was.

He leaned up on weak arms and wrapped a hand around the back of the android's neck and kissed him. His mouth was slack but he tried to kiss back, grabbing onto Daryl tightly as he came. They fell back against the messy sheets, tangled up together and stuck.

The android _was_ purring, now, a low thing that Daryl felt where their chests were pressed together. He was sweaty and hot and felt the android's heartbeat flying against his hand. They kissed again, hips rolling as the android chased whatever last aftershocks he could wring from both of them, before they both collapsed, too weak to continue.

Daryl sighed, wincing when the android's knot went down after a few moments and they could separate. There was no come to leak out but he was plenty slick and could feel it running down his thighs, drying on his skin. He was definitely going to need a shower before Shane and Lori showed up.

The android kissed him, breathless, his eyes a beautiful blue once more. "Thank you," he said, petting Daryl's hair away from his face. "Thank you for sharing yourself with me."

Daryl blushed, glad that his skin was flushed enough to hide it. He wanted to say thank you as well – _thank you for creating yourself, thank you for fighting to be with me, thank you for loving me. Thank you for treating me like I wasn't broken._

He didn't say any of that. Instead he kissed the android one more time, rolling them onto their sides so they could rest comfortably on their new bed. "You love me?" he asked, quiet like he was in a church. This space felt holy, now, sacred but in the way of a christening or a wedding. No longer a tomb, no longer a monument to something that Daryl had spent such a long time clinging to.

The android smiled, wide and joyous. "With everything that I am. With everything that you gave me."

Daryl smiled. "I love you too, you know that, right?"

Blue eyes brightened, flashing with that white matrix, and the smile on the android's face was like stepping out into the sunlight. Like Daryl had been living in a cave for his entire life and had gotten his first whiff of spring grass, his first taste of water. It felt like being born again.

The android nodded. "Yes," he said, kissing Daryl one more time. "I know."


End file.
